


Hope You Don't Mind

by compo67



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Bottom Jared, Bottoming from the Top, Deaf Character, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Happy Ending, High School, Horny Teenagers, I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nerd Jared, Prom, Schmoop, Semi-Public Sex, Shy Jared, Silly, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, The Lord of the Rings References, Top Jensen, Underage Sex, Young Love, deaf jensen ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 52,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared has no problems being an introvert in a family of extroverted women. He enjoys his alone time as a freshman in high school... that is until signs for prom start showing up. With both his sisters going, he begins to wonder if maybe his time alone is a little lonely. </p><p>[Fill for SPN Kink Meme May 2014. Complete.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

Jared is the only boy in a family of three women.

His mother and two older sisters proudly declare to anyone they meet that Jared has been trained to be the perfect young man—courteous, compassionate, and respectful. Jared really _is_ all those things. However, most freshmen boys aren’t interested in being courteous, compassionate, and respectful. His introverted personality and upbringing label him ugly words he hears from his peers and older boys. Of course, he prays for a movie montage to happen where someone pays attention to him and teaches him how to be cool and in the span of one cheesy pop song, Jared is homecoming king and the most popular kid in high school. When this doesn’t happen and even the bullies get tired of his lack of response to their taunting, Jared goes with his backup plan: staying invisible.

He reads Chaucer for fun because his mother showed him how awesome the Wife of Bath is. Beth, his oldest sister—and popular in her own abundant circle of friends—lets him read along with her senior women’s studies elective. Under penalty of death, Beth is sworn to never divulge that he cried after reading _Beloved_. Charlie, who loves to make up stories and can table top role play anything from old school Dungeons and Dragons to the Firefly game, is a sophomore and tries to set Jared up with her nerdier set of friends. But even after a torrid love affair with James, the kid in Charlie’s biology class that is unbeatable at Runequest—hey, wait, torrid love affair? It wasn’t like that at all. James came downstairs looking for a snack in the kitchen and he bumped into Jared, who had just put together a plate of cookies and peanut butter. James asked for one, Jared shrugged and gave him one. James held their eye contact a little too long, so Jared muttered something and scurried back into his room. That was _it_. See, Charlie loves making up stories, sheesh—Jared has found out that he prefers solitude.

Okay, well, solitude to an extent.

Signs for prom go up everywhere. Freshmen and sophomores aren’t typically invited but they can go as dates of the older kids. Beth has three people ask her within the first week, two from girls and one from an over-eager freshman boy Jared recognizes from fifth period art. She’s still debating, insisting to their mother that she could have all three as her dates and initiate a love-fest-orgy afterwards and whomever shows the most sexual prowess wins her heart for a week.

“Beth Ann Padalecki,” their mother sighs while pushing another plate of food at Jared, “just wear a condom.”

“Duh,” Beth huffs and stabs her vegetarian enchilada. “You had that discussion with all of us, mother.”

“It can never be had too often. Jared, you haven’t touched your food and you won’t be excused until you do. If you don’t eat you’re going to masturbate into dust, young man.”

“Mom!” Jared gasps and his sisters cackle.

Sex isn’t something anyone in their family is very discreet or shy about. Jared knows what women look like. He knows that Charlie and Beth would trade bust sizes if they could. Charlie binds most days and Beth has prayed to several deities for larger boobs, even going so far as to offer her younger siblings up for tribute.

If anyone wants to get technical about it, Beth was born with a body that looks like Jared’s on the outside, but transitioned when she was five after comparing her pee-pee to Jared’s and threatening to cut them both off because something was _wrong_. Jared is the only person who touches his cock anyway; it wouldn’t have been much of a loss to him had their mother not taken the butter knife out of Beth’s hand.

And it seems, from the way his social life at school is going, that he’ll be the only one touching his genitals ever. His cock might as well wither away. He leaves the table, upset about thinking of his cock bursting into flames during math class from all the rubbing he’s done to it with his right hand.

Genitals can’t spontaneously combust, can they? He Googles it.

Charlie gets invited to prom by two seniors in her table top group but she can’t make up her mind so she accepts both their invitations and invites them to play for her company. Nerds from miles around cram into her room on a Saturday afternoon to see the match.

So what, Jared grumbles to himself during study hall the next day. Just because his sisters have bought into the machine that is prom doesn’t mean he has to _care_. He’s perfectly fine rereading _Game of Thrones_ or finally starting to write the next great American novel. Beth and Charlie will be busy running around deciding on what to wear while he is going to be creating a masterpiece. And when he accepts his PEN Award, he’ll give a thank you speech about how _he_ defied convention and this work of genius is thanks to not giving two shits about prom.

When he arrives at home, his mother announces that since he has nothing planned, they’re going to a mother-son retreat in the woods with her book club. It’s also a nudist thing but she assures him that they can bring towels to sit on.

Great.

Further injury is added, when a month from prom, five bright pink signs are posted on his locker asking him, “Who are YOU taking to prom?” He rips them off and stashes them inside his locker for later so he can recycle them.

He can do this. He can be an extrovert.

Because the more he thinks about his life, the lonelier it feels.

No, he’s fine this way. He prefers having his space and his family respects that. It’s in his nature to need alone time more than others. It’s his time to recharge after school.

But he starts day dreaming about someone… someone maybe like him… who could sit there in his room with him and be content with hours of reading and the occasional break for cookies and peanut butter. Someone whose perfect afternoon would match his: a trip to the library or book store and a movie afterwards, with pizza and herbal tea. At the age of twelve he had resigned himself to wait for romance until college but that’s four years away still.

Jared tries twice. Both times completely exhaust him. He tries to talk to the girl in his second period English class but she mutters an answer completely unrelated to his question about her opinions on Hemingway, and pulls out her phone to text instead of speaking to him.

The next day, he tries saying hello to the boy in his first period drama class but that peters out after he’s paired with someone else for warm ups and they hit it off. Good for them. Jared wants to cry.

“Honey bun,” Beth declares to him during lunch, “cheer up. You’ll meet someone.”

“I don’t _want_ to meet someone,” Jared snaps and shoves her hand off his shoulder. “I’m _fine_.”

With a sigh, Beth shakes her head. “Baby cakes, I know you are.” She then informs him that she won’t be able to give him a ride home from school like usual. She’s got a doctor’s appointment their mother is taking her to during seventh. Charlie is also staying after for Chess Club, so he can stick around and wait for Beth to pick them up at four thirty or he can take the bus home. Jared settles for the bus.

It wouldn’t hurt so much—these rejections—if people were nicer about the whole thing. He mulls this over after school, sitting on a bench and watching everyone get on their buses. Bus 45 is ready and waiting for him but he can’t bring himself to get on and listen to everyone.

He can wait here for Beth. Four thirty isn’t that far away and he has a book. He always has a book.

After half an hour on the bench, Jared can’t explain the tears that fall onto the pages of _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_. In English, they’re reading _Romeo and Juliet_ but he’s read that twice and has received A+’s on both exams so far without a reread. He isn’t on a particularly difficult chapter of _I Know_ but he chalks it up to hormones, as he’s heard Beth and Charlie do. It’s got to be hormones; he sniffs and angrily wipes away all traces of stray H20 off his face.

Someone sits on the other half of the bench. They plunk their backpack down and take a seat like they have no idea about personal space. There are five other benches outside of school, why couldn’t they pick one of those? Can’t they see that Jared is having a mid-adolescent, existential crisis? Why exist in this world if all he’s going to do is read about the lives of other, far more interesting people and masturbate ten hours a day? And to top it all off most of the people he reads about don’t even fucking exist! How dare this person interrupt his breakdown.

Jared looks over and opens his mouth, prepared to snap that this is _his_ bench. “Hey,” he quips in the meanest voice he can muster. “Excuse me!”

The nerve of this guy. Not only does he have the audacity to sit on Jared’s bench, but he has the guts to be Calvin Klein-boy next door-90’s movies gorgeous. Jared shuts his mouth and shrinks back. Holy shit. So what if he’s being ignored, he’s being ignored by someone who has clearly gotten confused and walked off from their Armani photo shoot set and stumbled over here. Jesus. Oh no. Jared gasps. The guy looks over. They make eye contact for two seconds before Jared looks away and fumbles for his stuff, shutting his book quickly. Does reading offend pretty people? Well, it’s never done Jared any favors in the eyes of the good looking so he hurriedly stuffs his book into his bag and gets up. The second his ass gets off the bench, the bench’s coolness value skyrockets.

It’s the sound of someone clearing their throat that causes Jared to turn around.

He glances back at the bench. The Dolce and Gabana model is holding up a well-loved, spine-cracked copy of _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_.

“Why’d you ignore me then?” Jared blurts out, holding onto the straps of his backpack defensively. There’s not much point in striking up conversation someone Beth’s age who will just ignore him in the hallways later on but Jared is feeling oddly confrontational. It’s not like that is the best bench ever—why sit on it? Did this guy just want to make Jared feel inferior? With his Tom-Cruise-reminiscent nose and the spray of freckles over the bridge of it and tawny hair and thick upper arms and… dammit.

Jared stares the guy down for an answer. When the guy smiles, Jared fumes.

“This isn’t…” Jared starts to say but shuts up immediately. The guy raises a hand to his ear and says something in sign language. He finishes it off with a friendly wave and a shrug. Oh. _Oh_. Feeling like a complete asshole, Jared blushes and signs the little he knows in sign language: hello, sorry. The guy’s eyes light up at the signing and he says something back but Jared shakes his head. That’s all the sign language he’s ever picked up from Charlie, who took a beginner’s class two summers ago. Since Jared tends to be a clumsy person, hello and sorry were the only things he retained.

A hand is held up for Jared to wait a moment, which he does, standing there awkwardly but standing there nonetheless. Doesn’t this guy have a photo shoot to get to? Or a cheerleader to take out on a date? Instead, here he is, writing something down in one of his notebooks, neatly labeled English.

The notebook is turned and given over to Jared, who reads it out loud by instinct. “Hi, can we start over?” There’s a little space after that, which Jared assumes is for him to answer yes or no. Jared makes eye contact with the guy and nods with only a little hesitation. He picks up reading the lines directly underneath. “My name’s Jensen. I’ve never seen you in class before. How do you like the book?”

“It’s beautiful,” Jared stammers out but ends up apologizing again. He’s flustered by not knowing what to do. Charlie mentioned that Jared should never shout but beyond that he is at a loss.

Jensen smiles. It’s a smile that’s more handsome than it has any right to be. He takes the notebook back from Jared and writes a few lines quickly, still keeping his handwriting neat. “I can lip read, don’t worry. This is better though. Can I get your name?”

His name? What? Why? Does this guy _see_ Jared? Is he really looking at him?

The pen moves before Jared’s mind can catch up.

 

Half an hour passes like this. Jared has sat down on the bench again. They use three pages of Jensen’s notebook. Jared’s spidery scrawl contrasts with Jensen’s careful script. In some places they talk—write?—about _I Know_ and in others they share their favorite foods and what Jared is doing hanging around after school. Jensen explains that he’s part of the photography club and he stuck around to get some shots of the front of the school and noticed Jared sitting by himself. He thought maybe Jared could use some company, even if company was quiet.

“I like quiet,” Jared writes. “Please don’t apologize for quiet.”

“Good,” Jensen writes back with a smile that reaches his eyes. “Hope you don't mind it, cause I got a lot of quiet.” When Jared isn’t sure of what to say in response to that, Jensen bumps their shoulders together. “You gonna be around here same time tomorrow?”

At the sound of a car driving near, Jared looks up. He wonders briefly what it would be like to have to rely on some other way of knowing that his sister has arrived in her weathered Buick. He bites his bottom lip and hands Jensen back his notebook with a reply. “Yes. Same time, same bench, same bat channel.”

On his walk up to the Buick, he looks over his shoulder. Jensen is standing and he gives Jared another smile, this one a little wider, and sends him off with a wave. He’s tall, at least three inches taller than Jared. Those long legs carry him towards the parking lot, where he must have a car on campus like Beth since he’s a senior. Jared wonders what he drives; he can see Jensen in a convertible but he can also see him driving something like a Prius. Wait, wait… why exactly does this matter?

“Dear god,” Beth sighs, her eyes eating up the senior that walks away. “You could bounce a nickel off that ass.”

“Beth!” Jared groans and throws his backpack into the backseat. Charlie can ride up front and deal with Beth’s awful taste in music. “Don’t!”

Hazel eyes flash in the rear view mirror. “Oh? Don’t, he says? Why not baby brother? He’s closer to my age than he is to yours.” She fixes her hair and honks on the horn after a minute. “So how come I never see him with the rest of my rotten classmates?”

From the school steps, Charlie gives Beth the finger. She’s talking to a girl and the conversation seems a little more serious than Chess. Jared is good at reading people. This might take a while. He pulls out his book. “He’s in ASL classes. Well, except for gym but he does his own strength and conditioning as part of an indep—Beth!”

His oldest sister is in the process of taking her shirt off and getting changed in the front seat of the car. They’re parked in front of the school where anyone could see. Of course, she doesn’t care. “Jay bird you are so fussy. You’re like grandma. Enough people have seen my tits at this place one more show won’t hurt them.” When Jared was smaller, his sisters would tie him to the oak tree in the backyard and practice shooting Nerf guns at him. He isn’t sure why he’s thinking of this now but the memory lingers. Besides, he grumbles, he is _not_ like grandma. Grandma is a conservative old woman who believes Texas should be its own country and that kids play their music too loud these days and there’s too much sex on television.

Ten minutes later, Beth scoots over to the passenger’s side and leans out of the car. She yells at Charlie that she’s not running a taxi service—she can get in the car _now_ or walk home.

Once they get home, Jared skips the snack their mother has waiting for them and runs up to his room.

He’s fourteen, and while he is unlike most fourteen year old boys in many aspects—well, he likes to think so—he is like most of them this way. Half an hour and three tissues later and he’s sighing into his pillow, trembling from his efforts. His cock twitches against his stomach and he breathes in deep.

That’s a smile that’s more handsome that it has any right to be.

Shit.

 

Jensen drives a Honda CRV.

He likes to go camping and this car is a good mix between SUV and sedan. It holds all his gear and it doesn’t feel like he’s driving a tank. The gas has decent mileage too, but he’s never been out of California so he hasn’t gotten to test the mileage that well.

“Overprotective parents,” he writes into his notebook. “What about you?”

They’re in a café near school. It’s been a week since the bench. A few people in Jared’s homeroom give him strange looks; they look at him and then at Jensen and back at him. What’s he doing with a senior? Any not just any senior—a senior with a car and a smile that does things to Jared’s toes.

As Jared is writing his response—how to describe his mother?—Jensen waves to someone across the café. It’s a tiny place and they’re smushed together at a booth, with two cups of coffee in between them; Jared can hear Jensen’s breath hitch. Whoever this is, Jensen is excited to see them. Jared doodles a stick figure of Jensen in the corner of the page. Just as he’s adding stink lines, the person comes over. She’s the girl Charlie was speaking to outside of school and doesn’t seem to recognize Jared. That’s totally fine with Jared; the less he is Beth or Charlie’s little brother, the better.

With a motion of his hand, Jensen introduces Jared. He signs something, and then shakes his head and snorts. He picks up his pen and writes, “This is Anna. She’s a good friend.”

Anna has long, black hair pulled back into a French braid. She looks at Jared but offers no wave. Instead, she looks at Jensen, who is still sitting, and they start signing. Jared likes watching Jensen’s hands move. But it’s so much more than that, he’s noticed. Jensen is always on. His eyes are expressive in ways Jared can’t remember eyes ever being. Jensen’s hands slow and his body language gets shy; he blushes and shrugs whatever Anna is saying off.

“Sorry,” Jensen signs to Jared, kicking his foot under the table.

“Don’t be,” Jared says, trying not to mumble. He’s figured out that mumbling doesn’t help lip reading. They alternate between lip reading and writing; Jensen has explained that lip reading is not a super power and it’s actually incredibly exhausting. He’s fairly good at it but he misses every other word after a few minutes and it’s worse if the person mumbles or speaks too fast.

“You can’t write forever,” Anna says quickly and with a small bite to her tone.

Jared stares at her for a moment before she turns back to Jensen and signs something that looks abrupt. In another second she’s out the door. Jensen raises his eyebrows. His beautiful, beautiful mouth forms an O and he mouths, “Okay…” Jared shrugs—what? Girls are weird. He knows this personally; he lives with three of them. Jensen laughs at this and takes a sip of Jared’s coffee. A face of disgust is made.

“Coffee with your sugar? Gross!” Jensen underlines “gross” three times and picks up his own coffee.

“Don’t be such an old man about it,” Jared writes with a smirk.

The rest of the afternoon passes by as quickly as any of the others. Jared gets a ride home and he’s given a firm hug before he gets out of the car. In a perfect world, the little squeeze at the end of the hug would mean something awesome but Jared is sure that Jensen is just being polite. Before he shuts the door, he opens his backpack and pulls out a notebook. They’ve already filled Jensen’s English notebook. Jared knows that Jensen loves steak and mashed potatoes, sleeping in, and watching or reading Westerns. In another life, Jensen swears that he was a cowboy. He’s never ridden a horse or been on a ranch or shot a gun but those standards don’t count. He’s got the attitude and that’s half the battle. Jared knows that Jensen’s favorite movie cowboy is Clint Eastwood; he knows that Jensen has extensively studied the Titanic because he finds it fascinating; he knows that Jensen prefers the PS2 to any other console and sometimes he stays up way too late gaming; he knows that Jensen can hack a lot of things and spends his weekends repairing and building computers. He knows all these things.

A new notebook is presented to Jensen. It’s not anything fancy but Jared has written their names on the front. Their eyes meet and Jensen laughs. He signs thank you and pats the notebook as it is set on the seat Jared was just occupying.

When Jensen drives away, Jared lingers in the driveway until his mother opens the front door and yells at him to stop grinning like a fool outside and get in before the neighbors start to think they’re normal.

 

“Are you up?”

“Maybe…”

“Don’t be a jerk. Did I wake you?”

“Jerks shouldn’t tell other innocent, non-jerk people to not be jerks. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“I have unlimited texts, Jared. Ask away.”

“What if… asking this makes me a bigger jerk?”

“Can you be a bigger jerk at two in the morning?”

“Haha very funny. Seriously.”

“Okay. Seriously.”

“…”

“Damn, that’s a lot of typing.”

“…”

“Jared?”

“I don’t know how to say any of this and I really, really hope I don’t… offend you or… I don’t know. But… do you speak? Because it seemed like you wanted to say something out loud to me today but you didn’t and I… I’d really like you to know that I would never laugh or… fuck… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“…”

“Now _you’re_ making me nervous.”

“…”

“Jen?”

“I’m here. Just…”

“Yeah.”

“What if I don’t speak? Ever? What if all I ever do is text you song lyrics at seven in the morning before school or write to you in wide-rule notebooks? What if all you get is quiet?”

“I told you.”

“?”

“I like quiet.”

“Yeah. You’re weird.”

“Shut up. It’s… different. It’s not _silence_. It’s… different.”

Two minutes pass.

“Jen?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve never… had a hearing person make that distinction before.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I can picture the face you’re making, Jared. Don’t pout. You look funny.”

“Fuck you very much.”

“Well, if you insist.”

“Ugh! I regret waking you up, old man.”

“You didn’t wake me up. I was practicing.”

“Practicing?”

“I play guitar.”

“Are you the next Jimi Hendrix, Jen?”

“Trying to be. :)”

“Do you sing?”

“Maybe.”

“I can play the tambourine.”

“The tambourine, eh? A very noble instrument.”

“Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Good night.”

“…hmm. Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Don’t worry.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow?”

“Duh.”

“So eloquent. Good night, sweet prince.”

“Quoting Hamlet at two in the morning? _Now_ who’s the jerk?”

“Go to sleep asshole.”

“:)”

Five minutes later.

“Thanks, Jared.”

 

There are five days before prom. Today is Beth’s final fitting for her dress. Charlie has decided to go in a tux and heels; her outfit has been ready to go for a week. Now it’s Beth’s turn to hopefully finalize hers.

“Baby, are you sure you want this much tulle?” their mother asks, hovering around the monstrosity of pink tulle and silk. “I mean, are you sure you’ll be able to get through the door?”

The dress Beth has chosen is a Princess style ball gown. It is pink and fluffy and has crystals beaded into the bodice. It also has a push up bra, which Jared thinks is the most important part of this dress. Beth keeps poking at her chest and laughing with victory. For once, she declares into the mirror, her boobs look nicer than Charlie’s.

While his oldest sister does look stunning, Jared is bored. They’ve been here for an hour already. Even his newest book, which he’s reading with Jensen, can’t keep him entertained. Jensen suggested _Me Talk Pretty One Day_ by David Sedaris because Jared has never read it. Most of the afternoons they’ve spent together have been at Jensen’s home—ten minutes away from Jared’s—and in his room, sitting next to each other while reading or gaming. Jared never feels any pressure to talk more or less. They’ve filled up two notebooks but they’re left for longer ideas. A system of languages has been set up between them now—a combination of sign, lip reading, texting, and body language. It works for them. Jensen has been patient and understanding of how new this is to Jared, and in turn, Jared has been eager to learn as much as he can.

Jared’s phone buzzes. Excited, he pulls it out of his pocket and swipes the screen. “Hey chicken butt.” He shakes his head and texts back, unaware at first that he’s smiling.

“Whatcha up to?”

“Trying not to strangle Beth.”

“Excellent. Remember, witnesses are bad.”

“True. What’re you up to?”

“Trolling. Can I ask you a question?”

“I have unlimited texts now—shoot.”

“You do? Awesome. Well… can I ask a question in person?”

“Okay. Where?”

“Bench. Half an hour?”

“Yep. I’ll get Charlie to drive me.”

“Good luck, young Jedi.”

“Shut up,” Jared texts and shakes his head. He calls Charlie and announces his departure to his mother and Beth, who barely hear him. When Charlie agrees to swinging by and dropping him off at school, Jared can hardly contain his excitement.

Before he heads out of the dress store, he checks his phone and a message lights up.

“May the force be with you.”

 

Whatever it is that Jensen wants to ask Jared, it has to be something important. He could have asked it over text, without initiating an in-person meeting. A curious thing indeed.

After seeing the increase in Jared’s text usage, his mother finally relented to an unlimited text plan. It has paid for itself—well, in Jared’s view it has—because he and Jensen text constantly. Jensen knows that Jared’s favorite pair of pajamas have stars on them and are comfy and pretty much threadbare. Jensen knows that Jared stays up late and asks in-depth questions at times of night when other people are sleeping. He knows that Jared is really good at Math and English but Chemistry continues to elude him. He knows that Jared’s room is filled with books and journals and day dreams larger than the confines of a suburban window. He knows that Jared has a thing for over-the-top musicals with grand stages and sweeping entrances and elaborate, shimmering sets.

Jensen knows that Jared likes hearing him play guitar through Face Time and it doesn’t matter that Jensen doesn’t sing; Jensen can pluck the prettiest sounds out of his guitar. He knows the chords.

Jared gets to the bench late because Charlie drives slower than Beth.

Could Jensen be asking Jared…?

Maybe?

Hope flutters in Jared’s chest although he has no reason for it. Neither of them has discussed anything between them. Technically, they’re just friends… friends who spend a lot of time together. Friends who have gone over to each other’s homes and taken a chance to introduce the other to their families. Friends who still have plenty to say in each notebook they fill. Friends who walk each other to class even if it’s the longer way around for the other. Friends who leave post-its on the other’s locker with a quick hello or see you later.

Charlie drops him off away from the bench. Jared wants to walk up to it.

He sees Jensen and his breath hitches.

Today, Mr. Lost Calvin Klein Model is dressed in dark jeans and a tight, sea green t-shirt. What has Jared done to deserve this sight? Those jeans. He could have a nosebleed right here, right now. And on top of all of this splendid wonderment, Jensen has brought his guitar. It’s strapped to his back in its black case and Jared can see where they scrawled their names in white permanent marker near the handle on the side.

Whatever it is, Jared wants to write YES in big letters.

Approaching quickly, Jared slows down when he sees that Jensen isn’t alone. Oh. Huh?

Anna is standing in front of Jensen, signing something that looks serious. Jensen’s complete attention is on her but Jared can’t read his expression and his body language is stubbornly neutral. On the other hand, Anna is projecting emotions loud and clear: she’s nervous but excited. She is also confident. Unlike any other day, she’s dressed up in a skirt and heels. His sisters have taught him what this means but he can’t believe it. He can’t. All this time that they’ve spent together and Jared has managed to learn the alphabet. There must not be a word for what she signs now, because she finger spells it out.

Jared watches her spell out, “P-r-o-m?”

She’s pretty. He’s handsome. She knows more than the alphabet and how to say hello and sorry. He’d never have to write in a cheap, wide-rule notebook with her. They’ll be very happy.

The blare of a car horn causes Jared and Anna to flinch. Anna looks towards Charlie’s car on instinct but her eyes flit over to Jared. Jensen follows her line of sight.

“Jay!” Charlie hollers from the Buick, which Beth has only just started to let her drive. “Come back!”

Not now.

 

Ten text messages fill Jared’s phone. He answers none of them. Five are from Jensen. Two are from Charlie. One is from Beth. One is from their mother. And one is from the kid in fourth period Chem who wants to know if there’s a test tomorrow. There isn’t, but Jared won’t disclose that information right now. He’s too busy having his heart broken.

It’s not like Jensen is his boyfriend. It’s not like Jensen sees him as anything but a little brother or a friend or you know, that desperate, lonely kid who spends all his free time inside, reading _The Princess Bride_ for the fifth time instead of actually having a social life. It’s not like Jared ever made a move or was brave enough to go further than bumping their shoulders together or squeezing back at the end of a hug. It’s not like his day dreams are real. He should get the fuck over it.

Another text comes through. His mother is threatening to call the police if he doesn’t come down from the roof. She would yell this at him from their lawn but the neighbors did actually call the police last summer when Beth hid up here and their mother screeched from the porch. Jared flips his phone over so he can’t see the screen and pulls his knees up to his chest. When he was five, the girls brought him up here. He has the room with the best window access to the roof but his room used to be Beth’s. She discovered how easy it was to climb up—with the aid of the oak tree—and only broke her arm once. Charlie and Jared have been much more fortunate in their journeys onto the roof.

At the end of every summer, the three of them sit here and watch the last sunset before school.

In the fall, Beth is going to the community college that’s half an hour away. She won’t be going far for now and she’ll still live here with them. Still, it’ll be weird not to see her in the hallways at school and to beg car rides from Charlie.

Jensen is going to the same community college but he’ll be moving out of his parents’ house in August. He wants to be on his own; he wants to know what that feels like. To support himself he’ll be working a full-time job at the same time as going to school, which means he won’t have time to swing by the high school and hang out with pathetic sophomores. Jared might have a class at the community college next year, if he does well on his English final, but he’d only be on campus for two hours once a week. That’s hardly the same as being Jensen’s age and going with him.

So this is for the best, Jared decides, sniffling and wiping at his face. This is really for the best.

A code exists between the three of them: if one is on the roof, upset for whatever reason, no one is allowed to come up until invited. Jared hears his window open and bristles. The girls made the rules—why are they breaking them? He just wants to mope and mourn and grieve here by himself until he is fit for a My Chemical Romance song.

Jared is about to cuss out Beth—because she would be the one to barge her way up here—when a large object is pushed up onto the roof. What the hell?

Two hands appear at the ledge. A grunt is heard. Jared sits up.

Jensen pulls himself up, struggling just a second. He blows out a breath and looks over at Jared.

The smile isn’t as cocky or broad. It’s a bit sad. “Hey,” Jensen mouths, rubbing the back of his neck. His shoulders move up as he asks in sign, “Can we talk?”

“No.”

The smile is replaced with a frown. Jensen looks around, wringing his hands. He pulls out his phone but notices how Jared’s is face down. He picks it up and holds Jared’s phone out to him. Jared takes it but sighs. He doesn’t want to talk right now. Jensen doesn’t have to apologize or make a speech about how he enjoys Jared’s company but only as friends.

“I know you’re mad,” Jensen texts, his thumbs moving at lightning speed. “But please, I need us to talk.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Jared replies right after. He can feel the anger in his own face and he doesn’t like it. “I get it. I’m not a baby.”

There’s a sigh. This time it’s from Jensen. He sits down, crossing his legs, his guitar case next to him. The light of their phones is the only light up here. It’s eight in the evening and Jared already wants to crawl into bed and never come out.

“No one said that you’re a baby. I don’t think you’re a baby.”

“Whatever.” It hurts to send a one-word text. He sees that it hurts Jensen to read it.

“This is so wrong,” Jensen confesses, pausing to shake his head and turn away for a moment. “I had everything planned out perfectly. And then Anna decided that she just had to ask me something. So I said, fine, but hurry up because I got Jay on the way and Ihave to ask him something.” Jensen gives Jared a moment to catch up with reading his texts. “Her sister is Deaf. Alison is a few years older than I am but since Anna grew up with sign, she speaks it fluently. For a long time she was my only friend.”

Jared reads and looks up when he’s finished.

“That makes people close but it doesn’t make them… more. Do you get it?”

“Oh yeah,” Jared grumbles, “I get it.”

“What?”

It’s too dark out for Jensen to see Jared’s lips. Jared mentally kicks himself. He texts, “Oh yeah, I get it.”

“You can be so emo, Jay.”

“Stop it. Don’t joke. Don’t.”

“Sorry.”

“Just… explain what you wanted to.”

“Not much else to say. She asked me to prom.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jensen reaches out and touches Jared’s shoulder. Jared doesn’t flinch but he does stiffen. There’s a little squeeze before Jensen goes back to texting. “There are drawbacks to sign, you know? I can’t really multitask. And when you’re standing at a certain angle, Jay, you can’t see me sign.”

A second later, Jensen adds, “I said no.”

And before that can really sink into Jared’s consciousness, Jensen unpacks his guitar. He holds it with expert ease, cradled against him. One quick strum proves that it is in tune—it has been all afternoon. One more text is sent.

“I’ve never done this before. I’m kinda scared and my hands are sweaty and I’ve only practiced this song once… well… just… let me make some noise for a little while?”

The song starts out slow, with just a few picks. Chords dance around and pick up after a minute, ringing clear from the hands that coax them out. Jared starts to recognize the song even though it sounds different set to guitar instead of piano. He thinks that it’s lovely as it is and he can’t bring himself to express it.

And then, suddenly, there’s more. There’s anxiety and fear. But there’s also a voice that’s lighter, higher and softer, than Jared thought it might be. The guitar is no longer the loudest thing between them. “My gift is my song,” Jensen shakily starts to sing. He looks at Jared. “And this one’s… for… for you.” He’s about to stop but Jared scoots closer, closing much of the distance between them. Jared mouths the next line with Jensen. “You… you can tell everybody… that this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that… now that it’s done…” Jensen smiles but this time it’s different. His voice softens. “I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words… how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”

This is the best song from Jared’s favorite musical. They watched it together, holed up in Jensen’s room, on a rainy afternoon. The guitar takes over and Jensen’s breathing steadies. His grip on his guitar loosens.

Now the smile reaches Jensen’s eyes. His shoulders relax. Sound is based on vibrations. Jensen had an excellent teacher in middle school who taught him how to play guitar, and a voice coach who taught him how to focus his voice. He can feel the vibrations of the guitar and his own voice, and from the movie, he can tell how this song is supposed to be sung. Music, Jared has learned, isn’t only for people who can hear it. It’s a pure hum. It’s something intimate for Jensen in a way that Jared can only imagine.

In his room that afternoon, Jensen declared this a sappy song for a sappy movie. “So excuse forgetting but these things I do… you… you see I’ve forgotten…” Jensen leans in and bumps their noses together. Now who’s the sappy one? “If they’re green or they're blue.” He pauses from playing to reach into his guitar case. Oh no. Jensen never _ever_ gets to tease him about being sappy again because now he’s pulling out a single red rose.

“Yours are the sweetest eyes that I’ve ever seen,” Jensen says and sets his guitar down gently. “Hope you don’t mind… how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”

The rose is held out.

Jared takes it.

Jensen sits back proudly, grinning to match Jared. He signs, “Prom?”

And Jared signs back. “Yes.”

Mindful of the edge of the roof, Jared hurls himself at Jensen, embracing him tightly. He gets a squeeze that doesn’t end until they separate. The hug is soon replaced with a kiss every bit as good as Jared has dared to dream it—sweet, eager, and a little clumsy.

 

Just a little while later, Jared picks up his phone and curls into Jensen. There’s no rush to get down; the stars are out and Jensen brought Jared’s sweater up. With a few taps, Jared types out his text. A moment later, Jensen’s phone lights up.

“Thank you.”

A kiss is his you’re welcome.

It feels good not being invisible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two nights before prom is their first official date. One night before prom and Jared proves that he is a worrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to M for all the help with this!
> 
> so excited to make this a verse. it might take a while but i appreciate you being here reading this! <3333 comments would make me so happy. :3

Two days before prom, they go on their first official date.

They end up at the diner that serves dinosaur tater tots because well, because they both like dinosaur tater tots. A few hours before their plans were set to start, Jared asked his mother for twenty dollars. She made him mow the lawn _and_ wash Beth’s car. Despite that, it’s worth it when he beats Jensen to the check for dinner. However, it’s not that great when their check comes out to twenty-two dollars without tip. Jared is about to offer to wash dishes when Jensen kicks him from under the table and holds out his hand. Seeing what Jensen means to do, Jared shakes his head. No. Nuh uh. He’ll figure this out on his own, dammit. Stubbornly, Jensen reaches forward; Jared leans back, raises his arm, and keeps the check out of Jensen’s reach.

As their waitress walks over to retrieve their check, Jensen is climbing the table and dropping an ice cube down Jared’s shirt.

In a fit of giggles and playful punches to the shoulder, the check is paid for with bills that Jensen digs out of his wallet. He makes Jared pocket his money and refuses to discuss the subject of paying for dinner further. If Jared _really_ wants to make it up to Jensen, he can lean a little closer.

“Why?” Jared blurts out instead of replying via text. They walk out of the diner and onto the sidewalk on one of the main streets in town. In a few weeks, the sidewalks will be filled with tourists snatching up antiques and pricey gourmet food. For now, the sidewalk is relatively empty; it’s just a few people here and there on a cool, clear May evening. Most people their ages are getting ready for prom.

Walking in long strides, Jensen sighs and rolls his eyes. He shakes his head and continues ahead.

For a few seconds, Jared is frozen in place. He snaps to attention and chases after Jensen, kicking the older boy’s left sneaker as he catches up. When Jensen doesn’t stop, Jared makes him stop. He yanks him back and gives the world’s most awkward and poorly aimed kiss. They miss. Jared kind of sort of bites Jensen’s chin. Eventually, after a low laugh from Jensen, the kiss happens as it’s supposed to—on the lips, not the chin—and it’s a little messy and spitty and eager. Awkwardness is immediately forogotten when Jensen’s hands gently frame Jared’s face and pull him in closer.

 _Oh_. This kind of closer.

In the middle of the sidewalk, on a tranquil May evening, the dinosaur tater tots in Jared’s stomach are invaded by a swarm of energetic, joyous butterflies.

He’s being kissed by _this_ boy.

And it’s awesome.

 

One day before prom, Jared’s mother has The Talk with each of her children. She fills a plastic Jack-o-lantern with condoms, lube, and pamphlets about STD’s. In the kitchen, taking a break from making dinner, she holds it in her lap as she outlines the consequences waiting for them if they dare to disobey her and the pumpkin.

The pumpkin has one demand: in order for them to go to prom, their dates must sit down for the same lecture. No lecture? No date. No exceptions, no excuses. End of story. She allows the freedom in many aspects of their lives but this has always been one area she doesn’t take bullshit from. Unlike many parents she didn’t leave The Talk up to health class in school and she didn’t cutesy hers up either. She’s always been honest about sex. And it’s never the same Talk that she gives each of them like she’s copy and pasting it. These Talks always mortify Jared—they don’t bother his sisters, girls are weird—but he prefers his mother speaking to him like an adult instead of how his health teacher speaks to them.

There are a few rules their mother has set down about life: one, family comes first; two, no one is in any rush to grow up; three, no one and nothing is more important than their well-being. Her fourth rule is that she lives to piss off their neighbors but that’s not to be publicized.

Still, even though Jared is used to his mother and the pumpkin, he’s quite aware that most families don’t have talks about what kind of lube their mother should pick up the next time she’s at the pharmacy—during dinner. Further, whenever these Talks used to happen, they were always between their family. Jensen has met Jared’s mother once for five minutes. This is not exactly the kind of second impression Jared had planned out in his head. They’ve _just_ started dating; having a talk about sex seems way too premature. This makes Jared even more nervous. He likes Jensen. A lot. The kind of a lot where Jared wakes up and smiles because he knows there’s a text waiting for him. What makes these texts different from before is that now they are texts from his boyfriend. But what if… what if, since Jensen is older, what if he wants to have sex tomorrow night? Jared isn’t sure what is worse: Jensen wanting to have sex so fast or his mother ruining his chances of ever having sex with Jensen. The pumpkin stares at Jared, mocking his anxiety with its carefree grin.

“Don’t worry,” his mother assures Jared after his turn for the Talk. “I have adapted my lecture for your date, honey.”

That’s… great.

 

“Why are you so worried?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“You worry enough for the both of us.”

“Thanks, Jen. That is so very helpful.”

“:)”

“Asshole.”

“Hey, don’t start your mother’s lecture prematurely.”

“Stop!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got this,” Jensen texts and bumps their shoulders together. They’re waiting on the roof while Charlie’s date gets grilled. “But maybe…” Jensen takes his time texting, a smirk on his face as he continues. “…you should let me make out with you more, just to be safe.”

Last night, after dinner, they made in Jensen’s room for an entire hour. It started on the floor during a rewatch of _Much Ado about Nothing_. Their legs got tangled up and before he knew it, he was lying on his side, pressed close to Jensen. He almost cried when he felt something in Jensen’s jeans that was definitely _not_ his wallet. For a moment, he thought maybe he had passed out during the movie and it was all a passing hallucination but nope. Nope. That non-wallet was really, really there.

They flipped over.

Jensen wiped his own mouth, smiled, and pressed their noses together. Their breathing was rapid and slightly heavier than usual. Jared let out small, measured huffs of breath. Another kiss. Another nip. Another moment of Jensen’s hands on the small of Jared’s back, tentatively moving lower by the centimeter, rubbing circles and pushing the hem of Jared’s shirt up until skin was blessedly uncovered and stroked.

Another moment of Jensen’s mother pressing a button outside the door that caused a little light on the inside of the room to flash—a kind of knocking system they had devised years earlier. Another moment of them scrambling for the pillows on Jensen’s bed to stuff them onto their laps milliseconds before the door swung open. Another moment of them coughing and not making eye contact and, Jared mumbling, “Yes ma’am it is getting late. I’ll be going in… in just a moment…” The stare he got from Jensen’s mother, as she pieced together what had been happening behind the closed door, could have killed.

Jared’s mind shuts up and forces him back to the present when Jensen grinds their hips together.

He lets out a whine against the full, slick swell of Jensen’s mouth. Somehow, Jared has been moved from a sitting position to a lying down one. Flat on his back with Jensen above and all over him, Jared breathes in the scent of Jensen’s laundry detergent and the coffee Jensen drank before showing up a little early for his appointed lecture time.

Green eyes search Jared’s. The messages don’t always get through because Jared is still learning. But Jensen’s eyes are very expressive when it comes to these kinds of things. He’s asking: is this okay? Are we good? Are you good? Beneath those questions is another very important one, but it always comes after the ones about Jared.

Am I okay?

Playfully, Jared bops Jensen’s nose. It’s too dark out to read his lips so Jared makes better use of them. The quiet sigh he receives in exchange is the last moment of peace they get. From underneath them, a broom knocks three times.

They kiss quickly one more time and sit up to roll over to the edge of the roof. Jared pauses, heaves a sigh, and texts, “Showtime.”

Jensen’s phone lights up. He types back, “It’ll be fine. I think I know what sex is.”

“…I… don’t know what to say in response to that. Can I just ignore you?”

“Ignore me all you want but I can’t ignore that ass.”

For the first time ever, Jared falls off the roof.


	3. Chapter 3

Big sisters are sometimes useful.

Jared falls right on top of Beth.

Sure, she cusses his ass off and threatens to break his arm since the roof didn’t do the job, but he can feel the love there. It’s just buried deep, deep, deep, _deep_ under her grumbling. “Mom is ready for you two assholes,” she hisses, shoving Jared off of her and fixing her hair. Her eyes go to Jensen, who is scuttling down the tree with his guitar.

The crash of their limbs reminds Jared of when he was six and he launched himself down the driveway on a car Beth built and convinced him could fly. Unsteady, bruised, and more than a little sore, Jared climbs to his feet. He would like to announce to the world that he’s fine. Totally fine. Yeah, falling off the roof? He is way more hardcore than that. He fights balrogs like they’re bunnies and these are not the droids you’re looking for.

Okay, maybe he’s a bit off-balance.

“Thank mom later,” his sister snaps, cutting into his nerd-delusions. She reaches out with one hand and brushes grass off his shoulders. “Like, a real, sincere thank you, Jay. Not those half-ass…”

“Okay,” he quips. “I will, I will. Does this mean we don’t have to sit through The Talk?”

Jensen lands on the ground with a solid thump; he immediately begins checking Jared for signs of a concussion. At least, that’s what Jared thinks Jensen is doing with his hands on Jared’s face. Whatever the case, it feels nice and it makes Jared’s cheeks flush. Pretty boy paying attention to him, concerned about his well-being. Pretty boy who was just grinding their hips together and kissing him like they’re about to go against an army of orcs.

Fuck. Maybe he does have a concussion.

All he can do to the tap of Jensen’s fingers is nod and sigh. He’s fine. He’s just embarrassed.

Of course, now that he has been lulled into believing that everything will be okay, his sister chooses to shatter the moment with a cackle. She yanks the screen door open. The sound of it makes Jared flinch, which makes Jensen’s eyes go wide.

Standing at the door, Beth motions them in. “Fuck no, honey bun, she’s still gonna do it. But I’m saying, if you two don’t thank her, I’ll break your boyfriend’s arm too.”

It may be dark outside, but Jensen can still read Beth’s lips. He signs ‘thank you’ followed by ‘fuck you’ and it’s the most perfect thing ever.

Jared grabs Jensen’s hand and leads him into the house.

They can do this.

Falling off the roof has made him dizzy and brave.

 

When Jared sees the bananas on the kitchen island, he knows he’s in trouble.

“I bought three in different sizes so you boys could practice,” his mother practically sings. “Oh, Harold, you didn’t have to sign that.”

Harold is a familiar face to both Jensen and Jared. Jared knows him as his mother’s friend, someone she’s known since high school. He used to bring over a kiddy pool for them in the summer and grill hot dogs and burgers, dressed in the cheesiest aprons ever made. Harold’s abilities to mortifying the Padalecki children have been well-documented throughout the years. It figures that he would be here now.

“Might as well sign it all,” Harold says with a rumbling laugh, continuing to sign. He’s grown out his mustache again. “I know this young man. How are you, Jensen?”

“You know each other?” Jared asks Jensen, elbowing him in the ribs. He speaks as clear as possible for Jensen to read along. “What did he tell you?”

Before Jensen can answer with his phone, Harold butts in. He slaps both of them on the shoulder and all but forces them to sit down on the bar stools by the island. The bananas mock Jared.

“I know Jensen from Deaf Socials.” Continuing to sign and speak simultaneously, Harold takes a seat next to Jared’s mother. “My brother and I go from time to time, but I’ve known Jensen since… well, since he was your age just abouts. How are you, Jensen?” Jared’s mother is fussing with the pumpkin, searching for something. Harold and Jensen speak in sign. The combination of everything accentuates this dull ache in Jared’s head, which may have started when Beth smacked her elbow into it.

No longer brave, Jared rubs the back of his head with one hand and grips onto his jeans with the other. It is intimidating and overwhelming to see Jensen and Harold sign; they sign faster than Jensen had with Anna. From a few glimpses up at both of them, Jared can understand that eyebrows raised means something… but he can’t understand what. Eyebrows furrowed seems to mean something else, and Jared thinks it may be the sign of a question being asked, but he can’t be sure. Every individual sign has its own way of being formed, its own sequence in a larger message, and its own flow in the formation.

“Gentlemen,” Jared’s mother chirps, placing a gentle hand on Harold’s arm. “Let’s get started, shall we? Before my son passes out from anxiety.” Jared shoots her a look. She waves and blows a kiss at him.

Beside him, Jensen snickers; it earns him another elbow to the ribs. Jerk.

The pumpkin receives everyone’s attention.

His mother speaks as if she’s about to present a prestigious award. Only their mother would get excited about The Talk. “Jensen, I hope this set-up is okay? Are you comfortable with Harold here?”

Jensen looks to Harold for the signed translation. He nods and replies back in sign, which Harold then translates to English. “I’m fine,” Harold says out loud. “I appreciate the thought.”

“Excellent!” One of the bananas is held up. “We can dive right in, then. Boys, this is a penis.”

“Mom…” Jared groans, covering his face. “Do we _have_ to do the banana thing?”

“You know how this goes, sweetie, it’s a little too late to complain.” Every bit of spoken word is signed by Harold to Jensen, who keeps careful watch on them all. A smile peeks out from Jensen when Sheila lays out three condoms on the counter. “Now, I want Jensen to pick out the best condom from these three. Take your time, Jensen.”

Harold’s hands take a second to catch up, but Jensen gets the gist. He peers over the counter, biting on his bottom lip in concentration. Is this happening? Jared feels like he might have hit his head harder than he thought. Not too long ago, this boy plopped down on a bench beside him and they were strangers to each other. Here he is now, cracking jokes about condoms with his mother.

“I can’t choose all three?” Harold says with a laugh. “Isn’t that how it works? And if I don’t feel safe enough with three, I wrap my penis in saran wrap, right?”

“No!” Sheila gasps, holding a banana to her chest, protecting it from any mention of saran wrap. “Oh my god, Jensen, have you…”

A small laugh joins what Jensen signs to Harold. “I’m sorry, Ms. Padalecki. That was a joke.”

“Honestly,” she exhales, “don’t do that, dear boy. I had Beth bring me one young man who honestly thought that using two would keep everything extra safe.” Relieved by the joke, she eases back into her Talk. Jensen selects the right condom. It is a purple, latex condom with water-based lube. What separates it from the other latex condom on the counter is its expiration date. Harold signs what Sheila says; Jared tries to piece together certain signs.

The largest banana is passed over to Jensen. He is then instructed to roll the condom on.

Painlessly, Jensen rips open the packet. With textbook precision, Jensen rolls the condom over the banana and holds it up for everyone to marvel at. Jared’s mind is otherwise occupied.

Is… is Jensen’s… banana _that_ big?

How does he know how… well, he’s older so… but how many…

“My best yet,” Sheila sings. She holds out the pumpkin to Jensen. “You can pick out two from my assistant.” Packs of M&Ms and Kit-Kats have been mixed in with packets of condoms and lube.

If Jensen picks out condoms, does that mean he wants to have sex? But what if Jared isn’t… ready? Is it stupid not to be ready? Look at Jensen. Jensen is hot. Does that mean Jared should bring this up? Maybe he’s been waiting to have sex and Jared hasn’t gotten the clue, so Jensen is secretly resenting him? Does anyone have a Marauder’s Map of Dating?

Jensen tosses a pack of M&Ms into Jared’s lap and bumps their shoulders together.

This isn’t something Harold has to translate. Jensen smiles and rips open his pack of M&Ms.

Green eyes aren’t bored, ashamed, or upset.

Just like he said earlier, Jensen has got this. He’s got this enough for both of them.

“I think we’re good here,” Jared’s mother declares a minute later. She pats Harold on the knee. “Thank you for coming out tonight.” The condom is peeled off of the banana and Sheila contemplates saving the banana to make banana bread later.

“That’s it?” Jared twists on his kitchen stool. “Really? But… you had the girls trapped for like… an hour.” Eyebrow raised, his mother offers to extend The Talk if he’s asking. “No,” he blurts out, about to get up. “No, we’re fine.”

“And that’s why you two don’t get the full Talk. I’ve raised you to talk to me—not just to sit there for me to talk to you. If and when you two are ready to have sex, I hope you’ll come to me and talk about it.” Harold signs this so that Jensen can understand without tiring himself out by lip reading. “Both of you can come to me and talk about anything. I will say this, because I’m an old fuddy duddy, but you two just started dating. Take your time.”

The pumpkin is set on top of the fridge, where it will wait for the next Talk.

“If it’s anything you young people have,” his mother sighs and shakes her head, “it’s time.”

Jensen signs to Harold. “Thank you,” Harold says with a smile to match Jensen’s. “It’s nice to talk to you, Ms. Padalecki.”

“Sheila,” she says, clearly proud. “Now, Harold, you tell the boys a story while I get some snacks ready. We still need to get Jared’s outfit together for tomorrow night.”

Harold’s story of choice, told in English and ASL, is the tale of how Jared shut his penis in a drawer after Beth convinced him it was turning green and he had to amputate it. Jared was seven.

In his effort to stand up and run away from these obscenities, Jared falls over his kitchen stool.

Prom is tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few of y'all kindly requested updates. i hope this is okay. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags for this fic have changed, plus the rating has been upped.

“Here we are at Prom, huh?”

“…”

“So… How ya feeling, Little J?”

“…”

“You are really lucky.”

“Shut up.”

“Grade A lucky.”

“My pants ripped, Jensen!”

“I know they did, I sewed them back up for you. :)”

“This… I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I had to pull out my mother’s emergency sewing kit from my car. That means she was _right_ —I did need it one day.”

“…”

“Hey.”

“What.”

“:)”

“:(“

“You are way too ridiculously cute to frown.”

“I’m really upset.”

“Why? Because you ripped your pants? I fixed them.”

“*I* should have fixed them, they’re my pants. I feel like such a baby... again.”

“Well, there’s a changing table in here somewhere.”

“Ugh! That’s another thing. I’m sorry I have you holed up in the men’s room at Prom. I’m sorry my mom made us late because she wanted a gazillion pictures. I’m sorry I couldn’t afford a limo and I’m sorry I can’t dance to anything from this decade.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re texting a lot faster than before.”

“I’m upset!”

“Okay, okay. Look. Jared. I know that tonight is super important to you.”

“We are the only guy/guy couple.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

“My pants ripped, Jensen! Oh my god. Why didn’t you panic?!”

“Because I didn’t care, honey. I got to see your cute little ass and fix something for you. I call that a win. Now look. I know tonight is important for you. That’s why I asked you. But you know we can leave at any time. You just tap my shoulder and we can go.”

“…my ass is not little.”

“:)”

“I ripped my pants. It is by default _not_ little.”

“Hey. Let’s you, that ass, and me go dance one song.”

“Okay.”

“Ok.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time, doofus.”

“Jerk. :P”

“Mister Jerk to you. Ready?”

“Yes.”

 

Prom is not what Jared thought it would be. He figured that since only juniors and seniors were invited, there would be some modicum of sophistication. Maybe the age difference would elevate the evening.

So far, the decorations he has seen have amounted to a plethora of pink streamers, some glitter thrown on the floor, and Pepto-Bismol bunting on anything that stands still. Someone managed to get a hold of a disco ball, but it looks ancient and rickety. Three seniors have been sent home by staff members for inappropriate outfits, the large bowl of punch was spiked with cheap liquor by the quarterback, and the goth kids brought pot to smoke in the darkest corner of the gym. A chaperone has yet to say anything to them, mostly because someone started a fire in the girl’s bathroom and that matter is more pressing.

Beth and Charlie left to go another town over with their dates. There’s a horror movie festival at the drive-in and when Jared asked Beth what was playing, she retorted with, “Who cares?”

This is what Jared gets for his desire to be out amongst people.

Someone from the baseball team streaks through the gym.

“G-R-O-S-S,” Jared signs, sticking his tongue out in disgust. Jensen laughs and grabs his hands, pulling them out to the dance floor. It’s not really a dance floor—it’s the same old gym where Jared has failed to do more than five pushups in a row. But there’s someone in a sharp tux, with his hair perfectly styled and a travel sewing kit in his pocket who can do ten pushups at least.

Even under the tux and in the dim lighting that is supposed to enhance the mood, Jared can see the outlines of muscular upper arms. Those arms guide him through the mob of couples that decided not to watch the streaker get arrested.

For a moment, Jared thinks that their last song at Prom is going to be sentimental and mushy.

Jensen moves them close to the DJ, near the speakers. He slips a written request to the DJ along with a five dollar bill. Jared’s nose scrunches at the volume. Why are they so close to the speakers? It’s dark over here, almost as dark as the goth kid corner on the opposite side. Someone on the decorating committee flips on a smoke machine. In two minutes, the gym is filled with haze and the irregular light of the disco ball.

Earplugs are handed over to Jared.

The song that Jensen requested comes on.

Lady Gaga makes a booming appearance through the speakers.

And Jensen can _move_ his hips.

He happens to move them two tantalizing inches away from Jared’s. Nose to nose, Jensen maintains them, his hands on Jared’s waist. Every surge of bass results in a pump of Jensen’s hips.

 _Groove slam work it back. Filter that baby bump that track. Groove slam work it back. Space cowboy just play that track. Gaga in the room._ Their lips crush together, Jensen’s full, plump bottom lip fuses to Jared’s. He tastes like cherry Coke. Not one pause in between three rough kisses and Jared’s breath is completely stolen. _So starstruck cherry cherry boom boom_.

Gasping, Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s shoulders.

One of the speakers is eight feet tall. Jensen pins Jared against the side of one. Quickly, Jensen’s styled hair is no more. Jared can’t get a grip. He is slipping and grinding and almost bursting with the pressure from firm, possessive fingertips digging into his ass and the thunderous bass making the speaker vibrate.

_Blow my heart up._

_I’m so starstruck._

Teeth graze at Jared’s bottom lip. Jensen tilts Jared back and moves over him, rising in a wave of rich, spicy cologne and six feet of solid muscle.

_Baby could you blow my heart up. I’m so. Baby could you blow my heart up._

A crest of pleasure washes through Jared’s hips, from the small of his back all the way to the tip of his cock. He moans into Jensen’s pink, hot mouth.

_Would you make me number one on your playlist? Put your hands on my waist pull the fader. I’m so starstruck. Baby could you blow my heart up._

The tempo accelerates, rap breaking over Gaga. Jensen’s hips match the rhythm, snapping fast, fierce, and hard. Jared cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, shuddering as the intensity of his environment swells. The hands on his ass grope him sore.

 _Grove slam work it back_.

Jared rolls his hips forward.

 _Grove._ Jensen groans and lifts his right hand off. _Slam_. He brings his palm down on the roundest curve of Jared’s ass, smacking hard enough to wrench a yip from Jared. _Work it back_. Over the sting, Jensen settles his hand again, squeezing hard. He dips his tongue into Jared’s mouth, sweeps up the taste of them, and pounds their hips together.

_Blow my heart up._

_I’m so starstruck._

To the last beats of the song, Jared buries his face in the crook of Jensen’s neck and shoulder, small, desperate noises escaping the back of his throat. He comes—messy and hot—and presses his lips against the shell of Jensen’s right ear.

Vibrations.

That’s why they’re near the speakers. Jensen can’t hear the music but he can feel the vibrations. Jared’s hips shake, erratic and needy. He lets out another long, throaty moan the second he feels the heavy, hard mound of Jensen’s cock twitch against his.

_I’m so, I’m so…_

The song blends into something else with less bass.

Both of them breathing hard, they slump into each other. Jensen is sweating. Jared can’t stop shaking. Jensen runs a thumb over Jared’s bottom lip, intending to calm him down, but it only elicits an oversensitive shudder. To call this intense is to say the sun is warm.

Prom ends in a blur.

As fast as they can, they race for Jensen’s car. They are sticky, sweaty, and stumbling over themselves. The second they pull into the drive-in, they fuse together again, a whirlwind of bowties and pressed shirts. Steam builds up inside the car as they grind against each other in the backseat, this time to the screams of people being chased by a monster on screen.

Beth was right.

It doesn’t matter what’s on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you got lucky! my muse was generous today. :D 
> 
> "starstruck" by lady gaga. a choice for this fic that tickles me. i never thought it would be a Prom song but here we are.
> 
> does anyone have any suggestions where they want this fic to go? i'm open to hear some thoughts. :)


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Jared wakes up in his own bed.

At first, he’s confused about how exactly he got here. He keeps his face plastered into his pillow and shifts from his stomach onto his side. His bed is warm, the sheets are fresh, and sunlight shines in through the blinds.

As he wiggles around, his hips bump into something firm.

Jensen snores away, next to Jared, oblivious to time, space, and any threat of orcs on the horizon.

Jared almost ruins this moment. He suppresses a sleepy giggle over their butts touching. He knocks into Jensen one more time, just to test a theory.

Yes.

Yes it is possible to bounce a nickel off Jensen’s ass.

None of Jared’s movement disturbs the Armani model next to him.

Time would be taken to savor more of this moment, but the necessity of nature calls. Stumbling off to the bathroom, Jared makes sure he’s at least somewhat decent. They both slept in their undershirts and briefs; this settles his worries about what exactly happened between them. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jensen, he’d just like to remember whatever happens. Is that being overly sentimental? Should he care so much about his first time?

His anxieties fade as he realizes the effects of wearing these specific briefs all night.

In the bathroom, he squeals in horror. His briefs are glued to his hips. Why didn’t he change last night? What time did they get here? Didn’t he remember that he came in his underwear? Multiple times?!

The bathroom door swings open as Jared panics in front of the sink. Pulling makes things infinitely worse. What’s he going to do? Cut himself out of these? Be doomed to wear this pair of briefs forever?

“Oh my god,” Beth snorts, hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me…”

“I didn’t tell you anything!” Jared snaps. “Get out!”

“Who’s gonna make me?”

“BETH.”

Rolling her eyes, his oldest sister stomps forward. She turns the faucet on, twisting it to hot. In her Minnie Mouse pajamas, she grumbles to Jared to hand her some toilet paper. Complying, he watches her run it under the water for a second. She hands the wet product of her actions over to him.

“Press that over your dick. Not directly on it. Let the water settle and then try again in a minute. If that doesn’t work, just get into the shower with them on and peel slow. And toss those out when you’re done. Nothing gets the stain out so don’t bother saving them.”

With soggy toilet paper held over his hips, Jared mumbles a thank you.

Beth sighs and shakes her head. “Honey bun, don’t take forever in here, okay? I said I’d meet Laura at the mall by eleven. Oh, and mom’s making breakfast, so don’t forget to wake up your boy toy.” Before she closes the door, she adds, “You know, if you’d woken him up now, you two could’ve washed each other’s underoos.”

If she weren’t so damn helpful, Jared would throw a bottle of shampoo at her.

He opts for screeching at her to get out.

From the hallway, he hears Charlie mutter something about another quiet Sunday morning in the Padalecki house. She follows up by sticking her head into the bathroom and inquiring what the hell is going on.

“Our boy’s all grown up,” Beth sighs, the door still wide open. “He’s washing come out of his underwear like a man now.”

Charlie’s nose scrunches up. She flips her hair back, displeased with both of her siblings. “You guys are gross. Jay, don’t take forever in there. I wanna get out of here before everyone else.”

“You’re in a cheerful mood.”

“I am, Beth, why don’t you bite me?”

“Oh, Char, looks like your date did that plenty already.”

“WOULD EVERYONE PLEASE GET THE HELL OUT.” Jared slams the bathroom door on his sisters and arrives at an understanding of how having two older sisters is a curse upon his life. It may seem like a blessing, but it is in fact, a level 100 curse.

The toilet paper trick does not work. There’s… too much.

In the tub, under a spray of warm water, Jared regrets ever getting out of bed.

 

For years, Jared and his siblings have collectively petitioned their mother for another bathroom.

It makes no sense to subject three teenagers to share one. There have been mornings where Jared has contemplated using a bucket, or buying himself something similar to a bed pan. He could live medieval style that way and be perfectly happy, as long as he didn’t have to wait for one of his sisters to finish primping or reading a book.

Fortune seems to be on his side for the duration of his shower.

No one knocks.

No one bursts in, demanding to pee while he dries himself off. His cock responds to the steam and the softness of his towel, but then again, it responds to pretty much anything these days. Jared ignores it. He takes two deep breaths before he brushes his teeth. Focus. There is a pretty boy waiting in his room and he takes precedence.

From the lack of strange footsteps in the hallway, Jared surmises that Jensen is the only date to have stayed the night. Either that, or his sisters’ dates slipped out early.

Charlie walks down the hallway; her steps are heavier than Beth’s. Jared waits for her to go downstairs before he exits the bathroom. When he’s feeling generous, he’ll usually call out that the bathroom is open.

Today is not one of those days.

His sisters can find out for themselves.

Wrapped in a towel, hair still wet, Jared sneaks back into his room. The screaming and hollering from earlier hasn’t woken Jensen. Jared stands in the doorway, floored by the sight of sumptuous curves and miles of lean, firm muscle. Cold begins to creep up on him from wearing nothing but a towel, despite the heat he feels in his hips and fingertips. He could produce steam right now.

Jared steps into his room and shuts the door, accidentally slamming it.

The quake of the doorframe causes a small snort to echo from Jared’s bed.

“Sorry,” Jared whispers, not thinking. “I mean…”

In seconds, Jensen sits up, slightly panicked, blinking and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His hair is a gorgeous mess, and his lips look a little plumper. They’re bruised from so much kissing. Jared’s own lips are a little tender. He steps over, into Jensen’s line of sight, then smiles and waves as their eyes settle on each other. The confusion and panic fade from Jensen’s eyes.

“Good morning.” Jared tries to speak without mumbling. His cock is being a bother. Up. Down. Up. Up. Up. And when Jensen yawns, followed by a stretch that shows off the muscles in his shoulders, up up up up up. “Uh… huh…”

Jensen smiles, shakes his head, and holds his arms open.

Oh god. That is the international sign for come here. If Jared does, then he will come there.

Temptation wins. Jared’s resolve is steamrolled by the desire to curl up and start the day off right this time: by making out. Hopefully, Jensen will be kind enough to do that _thing_ with his tongue and that _move_ of his hips. Bits and pieces of last night filter into Jared’s mind. He remembers Jensen’s hands all over his ass, cupping, squeezing, and groping. He remembers how they steamed up the windows of Jensen’s car and drove home with them down to clear them up.

He remembers Jensen pulling the covers over them last night, right before they passed out into oblivion. Settled in Jared’s bed, Jensen then kissed the tip of Jared’s nose.

Goodnight kiss.

Jared remembers falling asleep with his arm slung over Jensen, and Jensen’s hand on the small of his back.

Two steps away from his bed, Jared stops. He hears a buzzing sound.

 _Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz_.

What…?

His eyes search the room for the source, but he sees nothing.

_Bzzzz… Bzzzz… Bzzzz…._

Jensen waves to get Jared’s attention. He shrugs and holds his hands up, asking in body language, “What? What is it?” Jared replies with a shake of his head. Don’t know. Not sure. The buzzing sound continues for another moment, then it dies off. Weird.

About to shrug it off, Jared figures it out. His eyes go wide and he dives towards the pile of formalwear on the floor near the bed. A litany of swear words and curses in Elvish leave his mouth.

“Your phone!” Jared gasps, finding the damn thing still tucked into one of Jensen’s pockets. He thrusts the phone into Jensen’s hands. They each have an idea of who is calling, but Jensen’s expression as he reads the screen answers it.

Jensen’s parents want to know why their only son did not come home last night.

A text pings through to Jared’s phone a second later. Jensen launches himself out of Jared’s bed. He’s half dressed by the time Jared reads the text: “Holy FUCK they are gonna KILL ME.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I totally forgot about your phone!”

“Not ur fault. Mine. I gotta go.”

“Go!”

“Text later?”

“Jensen! Go!”

With half of his clothes bundled up in his hands, Jensen is practically ready to leave. He’s decent enough to drive. On the way home, he’s got to come up with The Best Excuse Ever for Not Calling Last Night. For now, he races down the stairs, Jared following two steps behind. Sheila catches a glimpse of them both, and Jared shouts that they can’t talk now, they’re extremely busy.

Jensen stuffs his clothes and shoes into the backseat. He climbs into his car and rolls the window down.

“Kiss?” he mouths to Jared and points at his cheek.

There is always time for a kiss, even if it’s a peck given on the driveway.

Jared almost forgets that he’s standing outside wearing only a towel and a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this is all right!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emily by Mika in this chapter. <3

Eight hours later, Jared’s mother stands outside of his bedroom door.

“Jared, it’s a beautiful Sunday evening and I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

Receiving no response, she starts knocking. “Honey, I respect your privacy and space, but I can’t barge in there and check to see if you’ve masturbated yourself to death if the door is locked.”

“I would never masturbate to death!” Jared hisses from his desk. “Mom, I’m studying!”

“Are you studying or ‘studying’? Because I told you, it’s perfectly normal for boys your age to…”

“Mom!”

The laugh that his mother gives proves to Jared that he is in no way related to her or his sisters. Clearly, he was deposited here by a higher form of life, beings that don’t enjoy tormenting their young with inquiries on how often they’ve masturbated. Besides. He’s only jerked off once today and it totally wasn’t in the spot Jensen slept. Not at all.

Sheila sighs from the other side of the door, “Honey, it is a little difficult to give my youngest and only son kisses and hugs when there’s a door in my way.”

“That has never stopped you before, mother.”

“Oh, you’re right. But I don’t feel like getting out my toolbox and unhinging the door today. What’s say you let me in and I’ll only give you four kisses.”

“…two.”

“Three.”

“Fine.”

Jared sighs and pushes himself away from his desk. He has been productive today, much to his surprise. Jensen texted once around noon to let him know his parents did not decimate him, but that was it. Concerned about being clingy, Jared replied only once and left his phone on his nightstand.

Opening the door, his mother claps her hands together. She beams and takes him into her arms. They’re the same height for now. She has been mourning every inch he’s grown since the fourth grade. Uninhibited, she freely squeezes them close; Jared relents to her affection, a mouse in a boa constrictor’s grasp.

She kisses his cheek exactly three times.

“I would’ve stayed for two,” she chirps and rubs his back.

Jared hides himself in the crook of her shoulder. Despite her joy in embarrassing the hell out of him, he always reciprocates the squeezes to her hugs. “I would’ve paid four.”

He also never messes up her favorite _Pretty Woman_ quote.

She is a pretty good mom… probably.

 

The most important final Jared has this term is for English Lit. His teacher has made arrangements for Jared to take an Advanced Placement test instead of the regular exam.

After spending his Sunday studying, trying not to freak out about Jensen and his parents, Jared decides that he has earned a break. His mother graciously excuses him from eating at the table, since his sisters are out for the night and her stories are on. Jared takes his plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes up to his room to eat in peace. He then gluts himself on three episodes of The Magic School Bus and a documentary on Easter Island.

Finished eating, Jared takes his plate downstairs, washes it, and then prepares his lunch for tomorrow. He is a model son, not that his mother can currently appreciate it. She’s too busy watching something with giant ants on the SyFy channel. If anyone needs to point to the source of geek in this house, there it is, in pink house slippers and curlers in her hair.

Jared shakes his head and heads back upstairs before he’s noticed and given more kisses.

If he does well on this exam, he’ll earn a seat in a college-level English class. Instead of going to high school for English, he will be able to take a bus to the community college and have a _professor_. He will no longer suffer through classmates snickering at the name Atticus or Boo; he’ll be surrounded by people who pay to be there and therefore, must have something genuine to say about literature.

Well, he can dream.

There is only so much Chaucer a freshman can interpret in one day. Jared swipes through his phone and finds the music app that may be one of the most important things in his life. At the tip of his fingers he has access to all three Lord of the Rings movie soundtracks, the entire Dolly Parton collection, and the theme song to Ghostbusters. He’s studied to classical music all day; tonight requires something different.

Aiming for comfort, Jared changes into a pair of charcoal boxer briefs and nothing else.

His sisters aren’t home, his mother is safely distracted, and the song he plays is really, really catchy. He also just had a great weekend with a pretty, respectful, funny boy. Jared has somehow successfully tricked this boy into being his boyfriend. And, this boy said he has a nice ass.

_Emily, you could be a millionaire but you’re so full of hot air. Gonna end up like your father. Emily, you can’t leave your life to chance. Get a boy and learn to dance. Be a girl like any other._

Jared’s hips swing back and forth. He holds his hands up above his head and begins to bounce around. The song is pure pop, with a vigorous, uplifting beat. With his hair swishing to and fro, Jared rotates from his bookshelves to his desk to his window overlooking the tree. Not a single chair is bumped into, and no toes are harmed in the filming of this production.

_Pourquoi tu gaches ta vie?_

_Pourquoi tu gaches ta vie?_

_Emily dance! Emily dance, dance, dance…_

Finals are this week, followed by two more weeks of school. Jared wants to do well in English and Algebra. He can’t skip to college level classes in Algebra, but he can place into Trig instead of Geometry next year, and take a college class his junior year. Formulas make sense to Jared. There is elegance in the way numbers and equations fit. That final should be a piece of cake. But he’s not concerned about school right now.

It felt good to have Jensen pressed up against him. It felt better when Jensen’s plush lips would find their way to his own, or to this spot behind his ear that elicits a tingle and a spark.

_Emily you got so much in your life, don’t you know you got it easy? Who you screamin’ at in French? I give up, it’s not for trying. Emily…!_

_One day you’ll understand, Emily take my hand._

_Emily, I love you and I know you do too. You never make no sense screamin’ at me in French_.

“Pourquoi,” Jared sings, popping his hips on each firm beat, “tu gaches ta vie!” He blows kisses every other line, closing his eyes. The French chorus of this song is his favorite, despite his certain terrible pronunciation. “Pourquoi tu gache ta vie? Pourquoi tu gache ta vie? Shut up! Listen to me!”

Jared’s room is his sacred space. He can be himself here.

He can twist and wiggle around to songs on repeat until he’s out of breath. Memories from Prom fuel his energy, and he thanks the gods of technology that he lives in the era of “repeat song.”

_Pourquoi tu gache ta vie?_

_Pourquoi tu gache ta vie?_

The only thing that interrupts his bouncing is a loud knock on the doorframe.

Thinking he was safe from his sisters’ prying eyes, Jared didn’t lock his door. In mid-wiggle, Jared looks over his shoulder. He is prepared to see Beth standing there, cackling and taking pictures for blackmail, or Charlie giving him a look that questions his sanity. He is even prepared to face his mother, who would take pictures not for blackmail, but to show her friends when they come over so she can say, “Look how much he’s grown up!”

In no way is Jared prepared to see Jensen.

Jensen leans against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, his knuckles pressed to his mouth. Behind his hand is the most killer smile. And yet again, even though he’s dressed in plain jeans and a gray baseball tee, he looks like he’s broken free of an Armani photo shoot.

Before Jared can skyrocket from shocked to horrified, Jensen holds his hands up and motions, “Please, continue. Don’t mind me.”

For a moment, Jared is a deer in the headlights.

A blush spreads over Jensen’s face and he begins to apologize in sign.

Jared takes a deep breath. Be cool. This is Jensen. This is the guy who took the time to sew up Jared’s pants in the bathroom at Prom. The guy who has a bumper sticker on his car that says, “These are not the droids you’re looking for.” The only person in this town who enjoys _Moulin Rogue_ as much as Jared does. And one day, Jared is going to catch him dancing around in _his_ underwear.

Jared extends his hand to Jensen. Being in briefs is not required, but if Jensen is going to be here, then he might as well dance. With his other hand, Jared grabs his phone. He passes it over to Jensen, volume turned up all the way. Jensen’s hand is warm; he runs his thumb over Jared’s knuckles. It takes thirty seconds for Jensen to feel the vibrations of the speakers in Jared’s phone. It’s enough for him to get the gist of the song and nod along with the beat.

Jensen smiles again and it nearly destroys all of Jared’s confidence.

_Pourquoi tu gache ta vie?_

_Pourquoi tu gache ta vie?_

_Pourquoi tu gache ta vie?_

The song is too catchy for Jared to dwell on his anxiety. He slips out of Jensen’s grasp and starts bouncing again, adding a few extra sways to his hips. Little by little, his energy works back up, spurred on by Jensen’s hands trying to grope his ass every few wiggles.

One full play of the song blasts out of the speakers in Jared’s phone before Jensen tackles him.

They land in Jared’s bed, a mess of limbs, curves, and somewhat suspicious tents near their hips. It’s so easy, Jared thinks. His legs act on their own accord, wrapping around Jensen’s waist, and his hands settle effortlessly over Jensen’s firm chest. Touch, touch, kiss, kiss, touch…

_Emily, dance, dance, dance, dance…!_

The phone has made it over to the bed with them, and Jensen keeps one hand on it so he can feel the beat. He leans down over Jared and fuses their mouths together, licking into Jared sweet and hot. Touch, touch, kiss, touch, touch, kiss. The small of Jared’s back bumps against the mattress as his hips roll up to meet Jensen’s. This. This is _good_.

Continuing to be bold, Jared yanks Jensen’s shirt off.

Freckles all over Jensen’s shoulders greet Jared, so do pink, peaked nipples.

Jared runs his hands over the expanse of freckles and trails his fingers down to flick over Jensen’s chest. Touch, touch, kiss, touch, touch, kiss. _Pourquoi tu gache ta vie. Pourquoi tu gache ta vie._ Jensen’s hips stutter and he draws in a sharp breath the second Jared’s fingertips skim over his nipples. He grinds harder against Jared with every flutter and feather over Jared’s new favorite place to touch. The denim between them provides just enough friction.

Pressure builds in Jared’s hips. He squeezes his eyes shut, legs bucking.

Another pair of briefs are ruined the second Jensen slides his hands underneath Jared’s ass, bringing them closer, groping him hard and rough.

With a hand over his mouth, Jared comes, rocking against Jensen, hiccupping and gasping for breath. Jensen kisses him deep, extracting every noise and shudder from Jared. A second later, Jensen hides himself in the crook of Jared’s shoulder, letting out a muffled groan.

 _Pourquoi tu gache ta vie_.

Jensen peeks at Jared, biting his bottom lip, suddenly shy.

Jared laughs and rolls them to lay on their sides, face to face.

“Can we do that again?” Jared asks, grinning from ear to ear. “Please?”

Later on, Jensen will decode the French lyrics, and they’re not as happy as Jared thought they were. But they’re still fun to say, still fun to dance to, and in the end, Jared doesn’t care.

All he cares about all night is Jensen nodding yes. He stays the night again.

Jared never gets sick of the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nice long update for y'all! and hello from st. louis. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Monday morning is a harsh mistress.

Beth throws a small tantrum over Jared riding with Jensen to school; suddenly, her car isn’t good enough for Jared to be seen in. She goes on and on about how after all these years of carting Jared around, he just doesn’t care about keeping her company.

Jared mentions that he has never asked to be _seen_ , adding, “You left me at the mall once when I wouldn’t sit there for another four hours while you tried on shoes!”

“They were important shoes!” Beth grouses, stealing a bite of Jared’s bagel. “And you were being a whiny little…”

“That’s enough,” their mother thunders, holding her hands up. That is the end of this argument.

Less than two minutes later, Sheila pushes all four teenagers out the door. Standing in the doorway—effectively blocking anyone from returning into the house—their mother declares that Jared is free to take rides with his boyfriend and his oldest sister will still be there for him if he ever needs one. End of story.

The front door shuts and Monday officially begins.

 

No one is happy to be back in school after Prom, except for Jared.

He wants to take his English test.

The sooner he completes it, the sooner it can be sent to some testing center for a grade. With as much Chaucer and Byron as he’s forced himself to ingest this semester, he’s anxious to enroll in a class at the community college.

It happens to be the same community college Jensen and Beth will be going to in the fall, though one might be more of an incentive than the other.

Sitting in biology, waiting for their teacher to stroll in, Jared thinks to himself that maybe if Beth didn’t try to humiliate him so much, he’d look forward to sharing a college campus with her. Jensen—at least so far—has never told him that if he masturbates the wrong way, his dick will fall off and it can never be reattached. He’s also never abandoned Jared at the mall for half an hour to think about what he’s done.

For all of first period Biology, their teacher assigns busy work in preparation for their final exam on Thursday.

This is not one of Jared’s strongest subjects. He keeps to himself, filling out Punnett squares and attaching names to blobs he thinks are mitochondria. A group of girls form near him, scooting their desks closer to each other, and the gossip from Prom starts.

Jared tunes in only to see if any of it pertains to him or his date, but luckily, it doesn’t.

At least, it doesn’t at the moment.

Their teacher, aging and counting down the days to retirement, interrupts the gossip mill and decides to split everyone off into partners.

Monday is turning out to be a real winner. Jared hates partners. He either gets stuck doing all the work when he’s paired with someone whose goal in life is to join a fraternity, or gets stuck doing none of the work and learning nothing when he’s paired with someone whose single ambition in the world is making into an Ivy League.

As partners are assigned—Jared thanks his stars for assigned partners—study guides are distributed. Halfheartedly, their teacher mentions the possibility of taking AP Biology their senior year. With a final sigh deterring any and all questions, their teacher goes back to their desk at the front of the room, presumably to read through their Far Side calendar.

From across the room, Jared’s partner waves to him.

“Oh boy,” she exhales, breathless with excitement, bouncing into the vacant seat next to Jared. “I’m so glad we get to work together.”

At breakfast this morning, Jared tried to drink a mug of extra-strong coffee, but his mother took it away from him and claimed it would stunt his growth. She wants him to be 5’10” just like Cindy Crawford.

The coffee would’ve helped stomach the _Clueless_ reference that early in the day, and the bubbly cheerfulness that is—from the papers he can see sticking out of her binder—Clarisse. She keeps her blond hair in pigtails draped over her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Jared murmurs. “You wanna start at the top?”

The assignment is to fill out as much of the study guide together in class. After their final, Jared has been told to expect watching Bill Nye episodes for the duration of the semester. He wonders if Bill Nye has closed captions.

“Sure!” Clarisse chirps. She takes out one pink, feathered pen from her purple purse. “I’ve always wanted to work with you. You’re so quiet.” Unsure of what to say in response, Jared shrugs and begins filling out the first question. Unsurprisingly, Clarisse continues talking. “I mean, it adds to your mystery. I like guys with mystery. Dylan—the guy who sits in front of me—never stops talking and it completely ruins everything.”

Staring at his study guide, Jared mutters, “I can’t imagine.”

She doesn’t register that. She steamrolls right past. “Well, how was your weekend? Did you go to Prom? I know a few girls here did, but that’s because they totally begged some seniors to take them. I didn’t. I figure that I’ll get to go on my own terms in a few years, not by way of some desperate senior asking me at the last minute just because he couldn’t get a date with people his own age and he thinks that since I’m a freshman, I’ll just leap at the chance.”

Jared looks at Clarisse for a second—stunned.

“Oh, you missed a letter in your Punnett square!” Clarisse smiles and reaches over to make a correction on Jared’s paper. It figures that her pen writes pink. She dots her I with a heart, all the while her cleavage presses against Jared’s right arm.

Smiling almost maniacally, Clarisse writes her phone number down at the top of his study guide, then claims, through her perfect white teeth that he can call her anytime to study.

What the fuck.

When the bell rings, he doesn’t trust her any more than a dwarf would trust an elf.

 

On the way to second period, Jared decides that he needs a hit of something stronger than coffee could ever be. He takes the third hallway down instead of the first, wraps around to the west side of the building near the library, and goes up a set of stairs.

The school is made out of brick, which gives the impression to visitors that this is a factory or some kind of penitentiary. One of the English teachers claims it used to be an actual prison back in the 1930’s, but then the town had a boom and schoolchildren outnumbered the inmates. The building was promptly reconverted into a school. No one ever mentions where the remaining inmates were taken, but then again, Jared has only heard this story from one English teacher, who is usually cast off by her colleagues as drinking too much wine while writing restaurant reviews on the side.

Whatever the school used to be, it is currently an establishment made of red brick and burgundy carpet. A few of the science classrooms have beige tile floors, but that hardly makes much difference.

Jared reaches the ASL Department with five minutes until the bell for second rings.

He spots a familiar figure speaking to a teacher. Without looking at their conversation, Jared waits in the doorway.

Jensen and Jared hardly see each other in school. Deaf and hard of hearing students take separate classes in classrooms designed for them. Their courses and curriculum are different, though sometimes, as in the case of _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_ , a few assignments line up with the hearing senior class. Jensen has read _To Kill a Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye,_ and _The Grapes of Wrath_ —common lit requirements for hearing students. However, his curriculum concentrates primarily on Deaf literature and Deaf culture.

If it weren’t for this program, Jensen would have boarded at a Deaf school five hours away.

He’s never mentioned that possibility much to Jared.

They could have easily never met.

The teacher Jensen is speaking too spots Jared in the doorway, pulling Jared back into reality. A blush washes over Jared’s face that only increases when Jensen turns and smiles. He motions to Jared that he’ll be just another minute.

Hugging his books extra close to himself, Jared chews on his bottom lip. Life is good in this moment. He doesn’t allow any further thoughts about how things could have ended up. This is how things are now. And he has to behave and keep his eyes focused above Jensen’s waist.

Unfortunately, Jensen has these broad, well-defined shoulders. Furthermore, underneath the blue shirt he’s wearing, Jared knows for a fact that there are hundreds of freckles.

Heaven takes pity on Jared.

Jensen and his teacher end their conversation, and Jensen is all Jared’s for the remaining two minutes before the bell; Jared has a study hall this hour and Jensen’s classroom is next door. Clearly, Jared thinks to himself as Jensen walks over, this between-classes meeting was fate.

They stand an inch apart. Jensen mouths, “Hi.”

About to melt, Jared mumbles, “Hi yourself.”

They have slept together in the same bed, done things to make a car rock on its wheels and Jared’s headboard to shake. They didn’t take a shower together this morning, but that’s only because Sheila offered Jensen to use her bathroom while Jared and his sisters fought over theirs. Despite all of the things they have done, standing an inch apart in the doorway of the ASL Department makes Jared’s head spin and his capacity to function as a human being plummets.

The hallway is empty, everyone in class before the bell.

Can they kiss here?

Right here?

Centimeter by centimeter, the space between them closes. Jared clings to his textbooks like they’re a life raft. Pure giddiness surges from his head to his toes. He never stops looking at Jensen, who is smiling so perfect, radiating nothing but adoration.

Can they kiss…?

Jensen leans in.

Jared feels his eyes close on cue.

Jensen kisses Jared, sweet and fine. The press of his soft, full lips is decadent. Heat from their bodies mingles together. Jensen is warm and affectionate. He thumbs Jared’s chin.

Separating, their eyes meet again and a conversation begins.

 _How are you?_ Good. _How’s your morning_? Better. Jared bumps their foreheads together. Much better.

At this close a distance, Jared can pick up scents familiar to him—peppermint, sunshine, and coffee. Sheila poured Jensen his own mug this morning. Later, Jared will let Jensen know he should be honored.

For now, Jared nearly purrs in delight at having his shoulders rubbed by confident hands. He could almost forget about the books he’s carrying or the backpack on his back…

 _SLAM_.

Across the hall, a locker shuts so hard and loud, Jared jumps with a yip and drops his Biology book on his foot. One whole semester worth of material on the study of life crashes onto his toes. His notes spill all over hideous burgundy carpet.

Jensen’s eyes go wide with concern. He swoops down to pick up Jared’s stuff.

Jared looks over to the direction of the sudden noise.

Too late to see the perpetrator, the hallway is once again empty.

All he catches is a swish of black hair whipping around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! an update! :D
> 
> just a reminder: if you ever see my work for sale, that is NOT me. please don't give your credit card info for fic, and if you do see this being offered, let me know. stay safe out there, y'all. also, my work is ONLY available here.


	8. Chapter 8

On the way to his English exam in an empty room where the proctor is waiting, Jared stops for a drink of water. He recites a few lines of Chaucer in his head as he leans down to the water fountain in between a row of olive green lockers. He has his hall pass in hand, ready to wave it to a monitor if need be, but they’re used to him wandering in and out of the library by now.

_What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman?_

Working in lines from classic British literature can only help him earn points with the AP graders. But he doesn’t want to sound too pretentious, so he can leave Byron out of this. Maybe. He could go for the gold and work in Tolkien if the prompt allows for it. That might be okay, but what if they think he lifted the lines from the movies? Best to stick with Chaucer.

He’d better write his thesis first, as his teacher instructed, and then work around it to construct an introduction. An outline in his notes would help to keep his points on track…

A hand slams down on the fountain, six inches away from Jared’s face.

This time, instead of dropping all of his stuff, Jared tries to hold onto it. Unfortunately, in his attempt, he pitches forward and water sprays all over his face and the front of his shirt. He stands up, enraged, expecting Beth to be there cackling. It could possibly be Charlie, but she typically prefers to go for his kidneys. Ready to shout, Jared wipes cold water from his face to confront…

Anna.

Taking her hand back, she flicks her long, black hair over her shoulder and looks at Jared, square in the eyes. She has the confidence of a million Chris Traegers, except she’s not nearly as nice. Aside from one look Sheila gave him in the sixth grade, this is _literally_ the scariest look Jared has ever received from anyone.

All of Jared’s expectations from Anna and this moment turn out to be wrong. Anna doesn’t speak. She doesn’t start shouting, screaming, or screeching. The hallway they are in is completely empty.

If she wanted to make a scene, this would be the time to do it. Jared braces himself.

A scene does eventually take place—Anna begins signing.

Her hands are rapid, cutting through the air without hesitation or pause. For thirty seconds, Jared stares, mesmerized and a little weirded out. Were those all coherent sentences in ASL?

Doesn’t she know he has no idea what she’s signing?

“Exactly,” she hisses, stepping into his space, seemingly able to read his thoughts. “You don’t _know_ our language. So whatever you _think_ you have going on with Jensen, don’t expect it to last.”

Holy shit.

Jared has found himself in the middle of a… what’s it called… Charlie used to watch spaghetti westerns round the clock. Fuck.

A showdown!

Words completely fail him. His mouth hangs open, making a poor showing for his wit.

He can drop an insult on a dime when it comes to his sisters, but a rebuttal when he truly needs it alludes his grasp.

When Chaucer was a child, Europe was ravaged by the Black Death. About a third of Europe’s population was wiped out by the plague—an illness that caused black boils to sprout all over the body of the afflicted. These boils oozed blood and pus. Death was usually not too far behind the discovery of one of those mounds—which could range from the size of quarters to the size of apples—and were commonly found underneath armpits and over groins.

In the seventh grade, Jared wanted to be an epidemiologist. The Black Death was his specialty. All of his studying put _The Canterbury Tales_ in perspective. Smallpox was also very interesting.

His dream summer vacation would include a trip to the CDC in Atlanta. And while he’s dreaming, a visit to England would be lovely.

Anna doesn’t look like the kind of person who knows the school and public librarians by name. She also doesn’t look like the type of person who devotes hours of their lives to curling up in bed and watching the History Channel, though lately it’s been a little heavy on Hitler conspiracies.

She doesn’t look invisible.

Jared can’t think of a single thing to say in response.

He should stick up for himself, but his mind turns on him. A squeak leaves his mouth and nothing more.

Smirking, Anna shakes her head. “I thought so,” she snips. “ _I_ grew up signing. My sister and Jensen are very close. I’m going to tonight’s Deaf social. Has he invited you?”

Against his better judgment, Jared blurts out one thing and one thing only: “No.”

“Figures. Of course he didn’t.  I’ve been going to socials since I was a kid. And you? You _are_ a kid. So back off, freshman.”

This time, Anna’s hand lands on the books Jared holds in his arms. She pushes down, books him, and walks away, hair whipping behind her yet again.

Her point is made astoundingly clear.

For a minute, Jared stands there, staring at his books, papers, and hall pass scattered on the ground.

_Peace, Peace, she cannot hear. Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here, Heap earth upon it._

That’s not even English.

Jared picks his stuff up. Oscar Wilde haunts him all the way to the test room.

 

_It has often been said that what we value can be determined only by what we sacrifice. Consider how this statement applies to a character from a novel or a play. Select a character that has deliberately sacrificed, surrendered, or forfeited something in a way that highlights that character’s values._

_Write a well-organized essay in which you analyze how the particular sacrifice illuminates the character’s values and provides a deeper understanding of the meaning of the work as a whole_.

In two hours, Jared must produce three essays; two are responses to selections of poetry, the last is this free write option. The multiple choice portion flew by in a series of scantron bubbles. He barely remembers any of the questions.

For the life of him, Jared can no longer think.

He stares at his blank piece of paper and all his chances of starting college early.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried. He poked at a few YouTube videos, searching with keywords like, “How to Sign,” and, “ASL 101.” But he got sidetracked by clicking through to poems in ASL. One in particular stuck with him, but he never got a chance to show it to Jensen and ask his opinion on it. It was, as Jared read in the video’s description, about dandelions as a metaphor for Deaf identity.

But he didn’t understand any of the signs.

The signer didn’t fingerspell anything that Jared could understand.

Jared could only watch the video in awe at how elegant the movements of the signer’s hands were, how expressive the each line and stanza could be through each fluid motion.

That’s definitely not enough.

His “no” from the hallway eats away at him and the time left to write his last essay. He was not invited. He had no idea a social was tonight. His plan was to ask Jensen if they could watch a movie together and maybe get caught up doing a few other things.

But they can’t—as enjoyable as it is—make out all the time.

Should he ask Jensen about joining him? Maybe there’s a reason Jensen didn’t bring it up? Maybe he’s seen too much of Jared for today. Maybe managing without sign language wears Jensen out too much.

They can’t write in notebooks or text every single time something needs to be communicated.

It’s just not practical.

A headache festers in the back of Jared’s neck. He imagines a black, bulbous boil forming.

Monday is cruel.

The test proctor clears his throat from his desk at the front of the room. Mr. Jones is usually one of the hall monitors on the third floor; today, they pulled him in to proctor for Jared. He makes a motion to Jared: get on with it. There are only forty minutes left to pull an entire well-organized essay out of his ass.

Jared closes his eyes and sits up straight in the uncomfortable school desk.

He pictures the bench where Jensen introduced himself.

They’ve gotten this far as they are, which isn’t _that_ far, but far enough.

Jensen asked Jared to Prom for a reason.

In no way has Jared ever forced Jensen to fork over kisses—those sweet, affectionate, lingering kisses snuck between them this morning, in the car, and earlier in the hallway. Those kisses were given freely to an appreciative recipient. Jared earned them. He doesn’t know how, but he did. And for every ounce of reverence poured into those kisses, Jared knowingly returned it.

 _Preach it, I say preach it_.

That’s a line Jared knows well.

In his notes, Jared carves out a thesis statement. He hacks away at it until every word is in place, crafting something out of the flutter of an idea. More and more lines filter into his mind and sift out of his pencil. Here and there he erases a few words, adjusting sentences, breathing in deep, trusting the small outline he scrawled out in the margins of his notes. Support for his argument builds, holding up against any counterarguments he can think of.

It was Beth’s copy of _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_ that he borrowed.

But it was Jensen’s copy that he finished reading before Prom. It was carefully and thoroughly annotated from beginning to end.

Jared writes a note to whoever ends up grading his essay. He knows that _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_ is technically an autobiography, not a novel or a play. But he hopes they respect his selection.

He hands in his papers with two minutes to spare; they are sorted, placed in an envelope, and sealed. Mr. Jones signs the back flap and dismisses Jared to his next class. Walking through an empty hallway once again, Jared stops at his locker.

Results will be sent through the mail in two to three weeks.

Opening his locker, Jared sees a glimpse of bright pink.

There’s a post-it note inside, stuck on his math textbook, which he’ll need next hour.

 _I know you did great_. —J

Jared hopes Jensen respects how much he doesn’t know.

And how much he’s willing to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lines in this chapter are from Oscar Wilde and Maya Angelou. <3
> 
> also, the poem Dandelion is by Clayton Valli. you can view it here, it's wonderful to see even if you don't know ASL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XzFWYWv7fM. 
> 
> yay an update! now onto my other projects! thank you for reading. comments are appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

Five minutes before the end of the school day, Jared receives a text as simple as the note he found in his locker.

Jared texts back as quickly as possible, dodging the sharp glances of his History teacher. Another study guide is passed around in the last few seconds remaining in the day. Jared stuffs it into his backpack, and after the bell, nearly flattens two classmates in his dash to the door. If he can make it downstairs before Jensen, he won’t lose the opportunity to see one of the most glorious, satisfying sights ever made possible. Having fled his odious classroom, Jared rips open his locker and exchanges a few folders here and there. Tonight, attention must be paid to Algebra, and after that, Biology.

Finished with the mess of papers and textbooks that threaten to crush him at any moment, he estimates the shortest route to the parking lot. More acquainted with the library hallway, Jared chooses that one.

He arrives at Jensen’s car breathless and flushed.

Running for a cute boy?

What next?

Jared leans against the CRV, his backpack sloughed off already, and waits for the big moment. Luckily, he does not wait long. Fortune is attentive to him; the sun breaks free from behind a set of menacing clouds. The stage is set, Jared’s breath catches as the show begins.

At the exit closest to where Jensen parked this morning, the door swings open.

Lean, jean-clad legs stroll out, with a happy, confident step to them. Up, up, and up—past a particular part that is better not to think about now—the hem of Jensen’s light green shirt rests over the hint of a silver belt buckle. Slim hips lead up to a broad, defined chest, and framed by a set of thick biceps. Jared exaggerates none of these details.

Though Jensen looks this way always, Jared could hold his breath all day for these ten seconds. As Jensen leaves the building, he balances two books under his arms, with his backpack on his shoulder. And there it is: The Moment.

Jensen’s keys dangle from his sumptuous mouth. His eyes chase after the expanse of the parking lot until they meet Jared’s.

Extraordinarily, two inches away from Jared, Jensen descends from his Armani cloud provided by the heavens. Without taking hold of his keys, he leans in for a peck, smiling all the while. Through a pleasant jangle of silver keys, they kiss. In this light, and set against that smile, green eyes turn light enough to mimic sea foam. The keys drop, tucked away for the present moment. The hands that belong to these eyes settle over the outward curve of Jared’s hips. Immediately, warmth spreads throughout Jared.

“Thank you,” Jared says, hushed but not mumbling. He presses an extra kiss to the tip of Jensen’s nose.

Green eyes reflect their smile, and then flash over to the car. With a shrug of his shoulders, Jensen’s body language says, “Let’s go?”

Settled inside the car, seat belts buckled, Jensen takes out his phone before he puts the car into drive.

“Whatcha feel like eating?”

“Uhh…” Jared doesn’t text as fast. As he’s replying, Jensen is already typing out something else.

“I’m so hungry, I could eat two of every animal.”

Laughing, Jared shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Think of the animals.”

“All right, fine.” Jensen huffs. “Just for you, I’ll only eat one of every animal. So where to? The usual?”

Jared’s thumbs hover over his keyboard as he bites his bottom lip. Should he ask about tonight? Should he make any mention of the socials in general? Is that really his place? Would this be considered clingy or inappropriately tracking Jensen’s activity? This only matters because Anna brought it up, otherwise, would Jared be so tied up about it? Why does he have to over think shit so much?

Patiently, Jensen waits for his reply.

“Yeah, the usual.”

 

When he’s driving, Jensen has a strict no texting policy. He doesn’t touch his phone once he’s on the road, which is admirable and makes Jared feel safe. There have been a few times when Beth was checking her GPS or answering a phone call and Jared feared for his life. Though, fearing for his life seems to happen with some frequency when his sisters are involved.

Without texting—and not being able to write in their notebook—the car is quiet.

More than once, Jensen has mentioned that Jared is free to turn on the radio or pop in a CD. Jensen keeps a few in the car—mostly things with a lot of bass. Usually, the silence while they drive doesn’t bother Jared. Today, he’s antsy. If he could sign, would that make things less awkward?

How practical is it to text and write everything he means to say?

Shit, he needs to get out of his head.

As he reaches for the radio, his phone goes off.

“Hello?”

“Honey buns,” Beth blurts out, “are you okay?”

Nose scrunched at the name, Jared murmurs, “I’m fine.” He looks out the window just to see if the school has caught fire or something. There must be some reason for Beth calling and asking if he’s okay.

“Are you _sure_?”

“Yeah, I’m _sure_. I’m with Jensen. We’re going to the diner.”

“Damn you, I’ve had estrogen cravings all fucking day. Bring me back something gooey and crammed with chocolate. Maybe with a little ice cream on the side…”

“Was there a point to this phone call?”

“Hey! Can’t a big sister call and ask about the welfare of her dearest little honey buns?” Her phone rustles around and she shouts for one of her friends to hold her purse.

Jared sighs. He watches in awe as Jensen parallel parks like a professional, not hitting the curb once. “You usually want something if you’re asking about my welfare. What is it?”

“That is _not_ true, Jared Tristan Padalecki,” she snaps into the phone. “Moira! Get over here! You don’t rifle through my purse, not even my snot nosed, ungrateful little brother does that!” Her phone shuffles around again. Jensen unlocks the doors and looks over. Jared makes a look that he hopes conveys the situation: he’s on the phone with the world’s most annoying sister.

Finally, Beth remembers that she’s on the phone. “Look,” Beth sighs, “I just thought I’d check on you, that’s all. I know you, honey buns. When shit goes down you get even more introverted than your usual Tolkien-loving, musical-watching self. MOIRA I WILL SET YOU ON FIRE. I have to go. By the way, mom wants everyone home for dinner tonight—bring your boy. MOIRA WHAT THE FUCK.”

 _Click_.

All Jared can do for a few seconds is stare at his phone.

He turns to Jensen, opens his mouth to say something, shuts it, and covers his face with both hands in defeat.

From the driver’s seat, Jared hears a little chuff.

Jensen reaches over, shakes his head, and pats Jared’s knee.

“Ice cream,” Jensen says, out loud and in sign. He repeats it in sign again, holding up his hands for Jared to see the motions better.

Jared sits up. He positions his hands and commits the sign for ice cream to memory. He has a feeling he’ll be needing it again in the future. “Ice cream,” he murmurs, blushing at Jensen’s proud smile. “Ice cream.”

It’s one simple word—a word babies know—and Jensen acts like he’s just recited an epic poem in ASL.

Bitterness follows Jared out of the car and into the diner.

Maybe the next time Anna confronts him, he can sign ‘ice cream’ over and over again.

 

Settled into their usual booth, Jensen pulls out their notebook. This one has a handful of pages left. He thumbs through it, pausing to smile at Jared’s ridiculous cartoons and notes. There’s one where Jared ranted for half a page about Phil Jackson and his spat with Guillermo del Toro. Jensen’s reply consisted of one word and one word only: wow.

As Jensen writes, their food arrives. Between the two of them they share a vanilla milkshake, a burger and fries special, and a plate of chicken tenders and garlic bread. Jared cuts the burger in half and waits for Jensen to finish writing before he digs in.

Jensen passes the notebook back and grabs his half of the burger.

“First: are you okay? You’re kinda quiet today. Second: how did it go?!?!? Did you work in any reference to _Moulin Rouge_? How about _American Gods_? Third: I’m pretty sure that you could’ve spit on that AP test and they’d be like, ‘Brilliant!’ You know, I think I heard you quoting _The Canterbury Tales_ in your sleep last night.”

Reading this, Jared makes a face. He looks up. Jensen’s smile falls at Jared’s confusion; his eyebrows raise in question. Jared picks up the pen and points at the last part of Jensen’s message.

“Is this okay?” Jared writes directly below the hearing comment.

Taking the pen, Jensen replies, “It’s a joke. You know. Deaf people got jokes.”

It’s possible that Jared is cranky after a day of worrying over his test, more hurt from the realities of what Anna snapped at him than he wants to admit, and bothered still by his sister screeching in his ear for five minutes about nothing. What he writes next surprises them both.

“I don’t really like those jokes.”

The food on the table begins to lose its initial appeal; Jared pushes his plate of chicken tenders away from him and sits back in the booth. Now he feels completely awful for having written that.

“Hey.” Jensen taps the notebook to get Jared’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

Two underlines means Jensen is dead serious.

Maybe Jared could have used Beth’s help… whatever that might have been. He starts to scribble, “Nothing.” As soon as he finishes writing the ‘g,’ he scratches the whole thing out. ~~Nothing~~. The final reply is as clunky and awkward as Jared feels.

“Does this bother you? I mean… it has to be annoying to write everything out for me. I know less sign language than a baby does. That has got to bother you. All I can do is the alphabet, sorry, thank you, and ice cream.” At the last second, Jared clarifies, “And I can’t even _ask_ for ice cream. All I can do is sign for it, again, just like a baby.”

With every passing minute, Jared’s anxiety spirals and his muscles scream at him to flee—flee the scene! Now that he’s just declared to the older boy he’s dating that he’s on par with an infant, there is no need to remain here. His earlier confidence has deflated faster than a dwarf in a drinking game.

Without thinking, Jared starts to get up from the booth.

What’s worse, he’s babbling out loud, which feels incredibly rude and he knows it’s wrong, but he’s already walking away from Jensen so the earth might as well open up here—right here in this diner—and swallow him whole because nothing will ever be better and he’s just going to fuck up his first relationship ever all because of teenage mood swings and pessimism. He was so high once Anna left him alone—sure that he had a place in Jensen’s life.

More upset than he realizes, he somehow ends up standing on the sidewalk outside the diner.

Fully prepared to run home, Jared’s feet begin to pick up.

He is two feet away from Jensen’s car when the panic alarm goes off.

Flinching, Jared stops and turns towards the CRV, then looks over to see its owner storming over.

Six feet of Armani model stop two inches away from Jared. The car alarm shuts off.

Jensen looks pissed. He takes out his cell phone and points to it, signaling for Jared to take his out—now. Fumbling around for it, Jared sniffs and swipes through to the main screen. Within thirty seconds a new text message appears.

“HEY. I don’t care how upset you are—what you did just now is NOT cool. And before I can even START to figure out what the hell is going on, Jared, I need you to tell me you won’t do that again. Don’t walk away from me like that. If I’m part of the problem, fine, we’ll deal with it.”

Ten seconds later, the next message pops up.

“But you talk to me like I know you can.”

Phone put away for the moment, Jensen stands in front of Jared with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes are sharp and there is not one trace of a smile.

This is their second fight.

And both times, Jared has run away from conflict.

Embarrassment burns in his face, all the way from the tips of his ears to the bridge of his nose. What does he do now? How could he apologize for fucking things up not once, but twice? He can’t possibly text anything back with the same amount of meaning as Jensen texts him. Fuck, he probably couldn’t sit down at a desk and have three days to write something that would make all of this better.

Jensen sighs. He shakes his head. “All right, let me take you home.”

All Jared can do is nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh drama! don't worry, won't last for long. <3
> 
> also, i do not miss the horrors of teenage mood swings or hormones.


	10. Chapter 10

No one is home when Jared slinks in.

The last thing Jensen texted—as Jared climbed out of his car—was for Jared to text him when he felt like talking again. That was it. There was nothing sweet about the message, nothing Jared could cling to for comfort, just professional and neat. Any reply that Jared might eventually make will take considerable delicacy. “What’s up dude, hey, man, I’m sorry,” is not going to cut it.

Jared has very little previous study or experience concerning men, and those men were not boyfriends. Ducking into the house and slamming the door behind him, he feels himself dig deeper into a tumultuous state of adolescent anxiety. How does he apologize to Jensen, and about what, exactly? Everything? Specific things?

The door yields no answers and the lack of noise or life in the house presses upon his senses.

There have been a variety of times throughout his life when Jared would have traded both his sisters to less than credible sources for an hour of this silence.

Feeling exposed and raw within his own house, Jared resorts to extreme measures.

He takes out his phone and summons the Eye.

Otherwise known as his mother.

 

“He probably hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“How do _you_ know, mother?”

“Because.”

“Because is not an answer!”

“Jared,” she sighs, exasperatedly pressing her fingers to her temple. “Honey, I need you to calm down. You’re breaking out in a rash.”

A formidable blaze of scarlet bumps stretches out over Jared’s collarbone and chest. He scrunches his nose at the physical manifestation of his descent into madness. Sitting on his mother’s bed, he switches his attention to the sight of his mother putting together her purple gym bag.

“He hates me,” Jared asserts, lying down on his side, curling inwards on himself. “He hates me and he’s going to date Anna.”

Folding a pair of neon pink socks, his mother frowns. “Stop saying that, baby. You’re putting negative energy into the universe. Who’s this Anna person?”

“She asked Jen to Prom before he asked me.” _That_ had been its own painful misunderstanding. He catches her up: Anna, her sister, and Jensen are very close friends. Anna’s sister is Deaf. Though Jared doesn’t know more about her than what he’s seen, it’s clear that she’s very protective of Jensen. “And now… I think she wants to date him.”

“But he’s dating you.”

She zips up her bag and places her hands on her hips, presiding over court. Problems and meltdowns and numerous apocalypses have landed here on her bed, where they have eventually—miraculously—been smoothed out and taken care of. Jared hasn’t been here in some time; that has always been the advantage of his reclusive nature.

“Yeah, but…”

“ _No_ ,” his mother cuts in. “That is a fact. Jensen is dating you.”

“But now he hates me.”

The mattress dips as she climbs onto the bed to join him. From previous glimpses of his sisters’ times here, he knows that this stage is the most severe of all mothering. He feels the instinct to curl further in on himself and shut her out in order to deal with his self-destruction.

Somehow, she works magic as ancient and powerful as any high elf. Placing her hands on his face first, she draws them close and presses a warm kiss to his forehead to relax him. More at ease now, he rotates into her, hiding away like he used to when he was small. The familiar and comforting scent of her strawberry lotion lulls him at the same time she rubs tension out of his back. With a few more kisses, the enchantment and sorcery is complete; the tightness in his chest unwinds and an emerging headache retreats.

“Baby,” she murmurs into his ear, brushing his hair aside. “I haven’t known Jensen very long, but he is not the kind of person to _hate_ anyone—least of all you.” She gives his ear a tug. “That young man looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, the stars, and the whole shebang.”

Sniffles escape Jared’s angst-ridden exterior. “He does?”

The thing is—he knows it. He is aware of how Jensen looks at him simply because Jensen _looks_ at him. But his mother understands that sometimes knowing is different from being told.

“He does. He’s absolutely smitten. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s dating you for a reason, honey, not someone else.”

“But I don’t know how to sign. All I know is baby stuff.”

“Jay, Jensen might have been born Deaf, but he was not born signing. He had to learn it, just like we all learn language. It’s not fair to compare your skill to his or anyone else’s. He’s got almost eighteen years on you with ASL. As patient as he is with you, you need to be patient with yourself.”

“But mom…”

“No.” Her voice remains firm. “I mean it, Jared, you need to be good to you. He’s not expecting you to sign overnight and it seems like you two have a system of communication that works well enough for now. Let it be that way for a little while and things will work themselves out. You’ll see.”

Rubbing his eyes, Jared nods, but he doesn’t feel more confident or inspired to take on the whole of his troubles.

His mother kisses the tip of his nose. “How’d your test go today, honey?”

“Good.” He’s made no mention of what Anna did before his test to anyone, not even his mother. That seems like a problem that is entirely his to deal with.

“It seems to me,” she murmurs, giving him one last hug before sitting up, “that babies don’t take Advanced Placement English tests. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby maintain a 4.0 GPA their freshman year of high school. And…” she pats him on the knee. “I’ve never seen a baby mow the lawn, either.”

He can’t help but smile briefly and groan in response. When he doesn’t move, she swats at his behind. “C’mon, get that butt off my bed and in motion. Just yesterday I was changing diapers on that butt.” She completely and utterly ignores his protests of embarrassment. “Now I’m giving this butt dating advice. Oh, the joys of being a teenager.”

“Mother,” he quips, “what do I do? How can I possibly say I’m sorry enough?”

Bright eyes look back at him. She smiles and fixes his hair, then lends him a hand to stand up.

“You say it once and that’s it. You’re allowed to make mistakes. You’re going to make mistakes. He didn’t tell you about the social because maybe he wasn’t planning on going tonight. Maybe—and this is just a guess from what you two have been up to this weekend—he wanted to stay in tonight and do other things. You don’t know and you never will unless you _ask_. You apologize for the diner, start talking, and then go back to whatever it is teenagers do with the door closed and music turned on loud.”

Magic makes another appearance. Jared feels… better.

Remarkably, the world has not ended. There is no crater, no smoking pit, no mound of rubble from any kind of explosion or disaster. He has survived this crisis.

And although he isn’t ready just yet to text Jensen, he doesn’t turn down his mother’s invitation to go to the rec center with her. Exercise will do him good. She promises him dinner out afterwards, without his sisters, and potentially a few scoops of ice cream.

All is well for the moment.

Until he’s in the car with his mother and she mentions the class she’s taking at the rec center.

“Burlesque for the Middle Aged Woman,” she declares, chin up and wide smile on her face. “You’re gonna be my dance partner, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, the power of Mom to Make Everything Better. <3
> 
> next chapter is gonna be a hoot!


	11. Chapter 11

Having to duck from the grips of two older sisters, Jared has developed speed, agility, and flexibility.

His small size—while disadvantageous in high school—has saved him from many perilous encounters with hair curlers and lipstick or the clutches of a three hour game of D&D. He can twist his form to hide in the smallest of cupboards, glide underneath any bed, and stay still long enough to hide in the shadows or behind a pair of curtains without moving a muscle.

“My Lord, Sheila, your boy can do the most _splendid_ high kicks!”

This right here though?

This is _not_ what Jared has trained his body to do.

In a room full of women on the verge of or going through menopause, Jared has found himself with his ankles above his head more than once—in a way he could have never imagined. Not even hallucinogens could have produced such a spectacle in his brain, let alone reality.

The ladies of this class have latched onto him like the balrog did to Gandalf.

There was no escape once his mother pulled up to the rec center, and definitely no opportunity to run as the ladies took notice of the youngest person in the room by a good thirty years. Women in his life that he had previously seen fully dressed in professional clothing—Mrs. Gray, his favorite librarian at the library, or Ms. Hurtz, one of the cafeteria ladies at school—surrounded him decked out in hot pink spandex and turquoise headbands. Struggling was met with harder, more insistent pinches of his cheeks and petting of his hair.

Resistance, Jared knew, was utterly futile.

Within two hours, Jared learned the Foxtrot, the Charleston, and the body shake. All of it was drilled into him by Mrs. Luthrie, a woman in her late fifties who barely reaches five feet in height, with hair she dyed purple when it started to go gray, and a long, prosperous career in what she refers to as “adult entertainment.”

If Jared’s grandmother could see him now.

Scratch that. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him now—his left leg frozen against the wall in mid-high kick.

“You’ve got a lot of range,” Mrs. Luthrie crows happily, clapping Jared on the back. “You can put that leg down now. C’mon, lower it down, we’re not putting on _that_ kind of show for charity, dear.”

He would love to put his left foot back down on the ground where it belongs, but it kind of can’t happen. Sweaty, sore, and half-dressed, Jared feels a rush of blood to his face.

“I… I can’t,” he blurts out, his bottom lip quivering. “I’m stuck.”

At the sound of his voice breaking and the appearance of moisture in his eyes, all twelve women in the entire class descend on him, his mother included. Everyone begins to shout out advice, ranging from massaging his hamstrings to picking him up and carrying him over to the bench.

Jared would trade this whole afternoon for one hour of allowing Beth to make him over with all the makeup in the world.

“Ladies, just give us a minute,” his mother says, motioning for everyone to take a step back. “When your sons come in for a lesson, then you can tend to them as you please.”

“My son?” Mrs. Lancaster huffs. She stands by with some ice for Jared. “Please. He’d call his father’s attorney in three seconds flat if I hinted at spending time with me outside of dinner and the principal’s office.”

Gently, Sheila places her hands over the screaming muscles in Jared’s left leg. She smiles as the rest of the ladies trade stories about their children.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Grimacing in pain, Jared nods.

“Well, put it on pause for a second, because you need to relax for this to work.”

“I can’t,” Jared snaps with a sniff. “Mom, I wanna go.”

“And we will, honey, as soon as class is over. We still have to do one more dance and a cool down.”

“I don’t wanna be here.”

“Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“But….”

“What color are Jensen’s eyes?”

Sniffling, Jared squeezes his eyes shut in pain. “Green.”

“Green-green or olive green?” Her hands begin a light massage.

“It depends. I—sometimes they’re darker…” After a sharp inhale of pain, she backs off, and places her hands on his shoulders. Jared takes a deep breath.

“Do you know the sign for green?”

“No.”

At his side, she shows him, repeating it twice. “Green,” she says, softly. “You make the sign for G and shake away from yourself. I know, hard to believe, but your mother can learn a few new things over the years. Actually,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve known the colors for a while. Harold and I got into more than our share of trouble in my twenties. Now, I know he might not look it, but he’s not only handy with cars, but…”

“Mom!”

“Oh!” She squeaks, laughing and pointing at Jared’s feet, both of which are now on the ground.  “It worked!”

Jared stares at his feet, clad in black dance slippers provided to him by Mrs. Luthrie at the start of class. She wasn’t pleased with his jeans and shirt for dancing, but she has assured him that next time, he’ll understand the need of being properly dressed for class.

Still in shock, his mother takes the opportunity to speak, bumping their shoulders together.

“I know you don’t see it now, but I think being here is good for you.”

“Because I have _splendid_ high kicks?” Jared grumbles.

“Honey, look at me.”

“…”

“You,” she pokes his chest, “are my little introvert. And that’s just fine; your sisters are extroverts enough for me. But.” This time, she pokes his nose. “That doesn’t mean you get a free pass to mope around and keep everything inside. This is good for you—it’s good exercise, builds your confidence, and you get to try something new. Give it a chance.”

When he doesn’t reply after a few seconds, she turns on the mom charm.

“Please, honey? For me?”

Mrs. Luthrie graciously excuses him from more high kicks for the rest of the night.  

But she expects him to dance in heels next time.

 

His mother keeps her word and treats Jared to a banana split before they head home. They eat their ice cream on the hood of her car, parked outside the house, enjoying a few more moments of peace and quiet. When she can’t finish her turtle sundae, he finishes it for her.

Inside, the world is not so tranquil.

Charlie can’t find her favorite pair of twelve-sided die, which she needs for an impromptu tournament being held by her wicked, evil, asshole ex-boyfriend who deserves nothing more than having ten evil spells cast on him and his stupid hoard of backstabbing friends. She’s going to play AD&D _and_ D &D tomorrow at sundown, but she _needs_ her lucky die. The mission costs any semblance of order and organization in their house.

Beth, while helping Charlie search for her die, gets a phone call from the clinic that fills her hormones and informs her of an estrogen shortage throughout the county, so her refills have been delayed. When she tries asking them what she’s supposed to do in the meantime, the rep gives her the runaround and hangs up. Beth will miss a dose, which to her means a beard will sprout all over her face and she should be excused from life until she can get back on E, and if that doesn’t happen, she’s going to board herself up in her room and never see the light of day again.

“I saw your die in the laundry room,” Sheila insists, picking up couch pillows from the floor. “Charlie, did you check there? And really, hon, did you have to tear the house apart? You know, there is no such thing as the cleaning fairy.”

“But you told us about the Tooth Fairy,” Beth quips. “Mother, I also kinda sorta forgot to tell you that my car needs an oil change… like… it needed it two hundred miles ago.”

Charging into the laundry room, Charlie shouts. “I checked here! They’re not anywhere!”

“Did you look behind the detergent?” Sheila presses a hand to her temple. “Beth, we had this discussion—you can’t let your car fall apart just because you need it to go to the mall. Also, I don’t have the money to take it to the dealer, you’ll have to ask Byron to do it this time.”

“But Byron is like… eighty years old!”

“I FOUND THEM!”

“And he smokes weed all day!”

“Who put them there?!”

“Mother, we can’t keep going to Byron to fix our cars, he’s… unreliable! Remember last time? He left a wrench inside the car!”

“No, seriously, who put my dice there? You know, all I ask is that all of you stay away from my gaming stuff and stay out of my room.”

“Charlie! You need to pick up the living room! …and the kitchen! …and the dining room! Beth, now is not the time to go through all of this. If you have an alternative that is better than Byron but not the dealership, I’m open to listen—but later.”

Jared grabs a coat and slips out of the house without being noticed. He’ll text his mother later.

Out on the driveway, he briefly considers hotwiring Beth’s car. However, the idea of additional stress for his mother kills the idea.

After a deep breath, Jared looks out at the stretch of empty sidewalk before him. It’s a two and a half mile walk to where he wants to be, and he’s still sore, sweaty, and slightly limping. But the walk might help ease his pain from Mrs. Luthrie’s Charleston drills.  

And right now, he could use some solitude.

 

Jensen’s room is on the second floor.

Fortunately, there is a tree twenty feet away from Jensen’s window.

Unfortunately, Jared has to climb this tree.

His sneakers slip once or twice—or three times—on the slow and sluggish descent. Without either of his sisters to provide a failsafe for him in case he falls, he pauses, closes his eyes really tight and pretends that he’s a professional mountain climber. Except… that kind of doesn’t help, because then he imagines his pretend resume and it includes climbing Mount Everest. At the suggestion of an elevation of more than twenty-nine thousand feet, dizziness sets in.

By the miracle of whatever entity watches over little brothers, Jared makes it high enough on the tree to be at level with the desired window. But holy shit, he needs to move fast, because more than sixty seconds up here and he’s fucked.

Clinging to the branch beneath him with his right arm, Jared pulls out a flashlight from the inside of his coat. He prays yet again, this time to the entity that watches over boyfriends who need to make huge apologies. After a few shaky clicks, the flashlight switches on and Jared shines it over the window twice. He waits ten seconds and runs the light over again.

On the third try, Jared begins to feel that maybe this wasn’t so great.

Maybe he should have texted before heading over.

Or maybe he should give Jensen more space.

Desperately clutching the tree, Jared flinches as he hears a window open. For a second, he thinks it’s one of the dining room windows on the first floor. That would be his luck—for Jensen’s parents to find him hanging here like a deranged marsupial. What would he say? No, not making out with your attractive son this time, just kind of, sort of stalking him…

At the sound of someone tapping on the side of the house, Jared looks up.

Jensen’s eyes go wide at the sight of Jared the Misguided Koala.

“It’s okay,” Jared says, trying to hold the flashlight close to his face without blinding himself. “Can you come down? Or can I come up? Please?”

Jensen laughs, shakes his head, and motions for Jared to wait there. He holds up a finger—just a minute—and closes the window. Exactly one minute later, Jensen exits his house through the back, running around to stand at the base of Jared’s temporary habitat.

He motions for Jared to climb down.

Jared bites his bottom lip and increases his grip on the branch.

If getting up was bad, getting down is worse.

Within a few seconds, another pair of sneakers maintains much more secure footing. On what might as well be Mount Everest, Jensen wraps his arms around Jared.

As usual, this Armani god from Olympus is warm, solid, and smells like pancakes and cinnamon. Allowing the moment to take over, Jared buries his face in the crook of Jensen’s shoulder. He slumps into the firm hold offered to him without a second thought.

This is all he has right now.

No phones, no slowed down signs, and no lip reading.

Jared pulls away, but only to give Jensen the clearest view possible in the dark. Eye to eye, Jared apologizes in the simplest way possible. He hopes his eyes say it all well-enough for this moment, for their here and now. He hopes that he looks at Jensen one tenth the amount Jensen looks at him.

Hands on Jared’s waist, Jensen smiles.

Green eyes accept the apology and give a reply.

Everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now... to bed! <3


	12. Chapter 12

“Starbucks.”

“What… just… like this?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“Starbucks.”

“Starbucks.”

“So… coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“No,” Jensen texts, smiling and shaking his head. “You’re signing ‘make.’”

Jared pouts, frowns, and lets out a sigh. He signs sorry, but Jensen places a hand over his mid-sign. Green eyes instill a pause, followed quickly with a smile. Jensen’s hand leaves only to text.

“It’s okay. There are a million subtle differences in ASL. You’re going to mess up. I mess up.”

“You do not,” Jared counters. “You make it look so easy.”

This time, green eyes roll. “Jay—you can’t compare yourself to me like that. I grew up with ASL. My parents are Deaf. My whole extended family is Deaf. I didn’t learn English until I was seven. Just like anyone learning a new language…” Jensen pauses and scoots closer, until their knees are touching as they sit cross-legged on Jensen’s bedroom floor. “…you’re going to make mistakes. But it’s okay. You’re adorable so I forgive you.”

At that last part, Jared manages the hint of a smile.

Jensen taps his phone onto Jared’s thigh. He sets it down and their eyes meet again. This time, Jensen’s eyes and expression are more serious. Reaching out, he places his hands over Jared’s knees.

After a second, Jared slides his hands to fit over Jensen’s. Their hands together feels right. Pangs of loneliness dig at Jared; he missed Jensen in the short time that they haven’t been communicating. It hurts more now, and he knows that it’s time for him to say his own part.

Pointing to their phones, Jared looks at Jensen questioningly. Text? Jared then points to his mouth. Or lip read? Finally, he points to a notebook on Jensen’s desk. Or write?

With a smile, Jensen pats Jared’s knees. He picks up his phone and waits for Jared to start.

They are surrounded by familiar things. Jensen’s room is as comforting to Jared as his own. On a bulletin board near the door are a bunch of notes Jensen has written himself, mostly for finals and afterschool activities. Jared notices now that there isn’t any mention of the social. He decides to tackle that subject first.

His thumbs don’t fly as fast as Jensen’s, but before long he has a wall of text to send. Jensen’s phone vibrates and lights up as it receives the message. Before reading, Jensen leans over; he presses a kiss to Jared’s cheek.

It’s a terrible thing that kiss. Jared feels warm and fuzzy and way too comfortable for the conversation they’re about to have. This feels nothing like making up; he had expected awkward and stilted, not pleasant and safe. Still, he can’t let affection—or the large, fluffy pillows they’re sitting on—distract him.

Part of being mature is knowing when to talk instead of grabbing the Armani model in front of you and kissing the hell out of him.

Jared sighs. With his conscience at war and his little brain ruminating the presence of fluffy pillows and soft kisses to his cheek, he begins to text. He edits words here and there, grateful for the thought that goes into text messages instead of the rambling his mouth does when he speaks. As he perfects the message, he thinks that maybe this isn’t so bad. Texting allows him to communicate better, at his own pace. They won’t always be able to rely on it, especially in split second situations, but for now, if he’s comfortable and Jensen doesn’t have an issue, what’s the harm?

This train of thought leads Jared to adding more than he had initially planned. He switches over to email, copying and pasting the contents of one large text and breaking it up into paragraphs.

When he looks up at Jensen, the older boy nods in encouragement, motioning to keep going. Jared can write as much as he wants.

There’s freedom in that.

First, Jared details his run-in with Anna. She said there was a social, but he hadn’t thought to ask Jensen about it to confirm, which now, feels ridiculous. But, Jared maintains, he was hurt at the thought that Jensen wouldn’t invite him to something that important, because Jared wants to be included. He wants to learn. He’s committed to it, because he’d never place the weight of communication solely on Jensen’s shoulders. Jensen knows English; Jared understands that he, in turn, needs to know ASL.

Writing out his feelings, Jared discovers hidden layers to these issues. He’s frustrated by so much—not only his own inability to sign while others around him do it as easy as breathing, but by additional, looming insecurities about their relationship overall.

Seeing it laid out in text makes these insecurities overwhelmingly real.

“I feel like one day you’re going to find someone your age—someone mature and outgoing just like you.”

That line stands out. Jared lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

With a small prayer, he presses send.

Ten seconds later, Jensen’s phone lights up. The older boy shuffles over next to Jared so they are side by side, knees and thighs touching. As he scrolls down the email, a completely neutral expression on his face that doesn’t help Jared’s anxiety one bit, Jensen keeps his left hand over Jared’s right knee. He rubs circles first, then taps his fingers, and finally, at the end of the email, he gives one firm squeeze.

Setting his phone down, Jensen now looks like he’s fighting an internal struggle. He bites down on his bottom lip and keeps his eyes on his hand on Jared’s knee.

Even though an hour ago, Jensen climbed a tree to get Jared down, and even held him for a few minutes before helping him down, fear continues to eat at Jared. This is it. This is The Breakup, this is the We Can Be Friends Speech he’s heard Beth and Charlie say in different ways. Jensen will probably be incredibly sweet about it; he might even pull a Chris Traeger and be so nice about it, Jared won’t even realize he’s been dumped.

Eventually, Jensen takes a deep breath. He lifts his hand off of Jared’s knee and nudges his chin instead, making eye contact in the sweetest way.

Having Jared’s attention, Jensen motions one minute and the letters, “ASL.”

The first draft of Jensen’s response occurs entirely in sign, so he can clear his thoughts. Jared watches Jensen’s hands in awe. Before meeting Jensen, Jared hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s hands, not even his own. He didn’t notice how quickly hands can move and how expressive they can be. While Jensen’s facial expressions change with the emotions he’s conveying, his hands add a necessary component. When he’s adamant about a point, his motions become harder, more solid. When he’s worried or anxious, his hands flutter.

Two minutes later, Jensen’s hands come to a stop. He breathes in deep and lets out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping forward for a minute. He shakes his right hand away from himself, mouthing, “Ow.”

“Take a break,” Jared says, though he’s impatient to know what Jensen just said.

Jensen smiles and shakes his head no, then picks up his phone. Within a minute, he’s has one reply typed out, his thumbs working overtime.

The first series of texts ping through while he’s working on more.

“A lot of what I just signed was just jumbled thoughts, but okay, here we go.

I’m Deaf, you’re hearing. That’s it. Yeah, it’s going to be a challenge, but we’re here at this point for a reason, right? We’ve managed to arrive at this point somehow, without resorting to smoke signals (haha).

I *like* the system we’ve worked out, Jay. I do. I would’ve said something about it if it bothered me. Remember when I told you I can’t lip read continuously? It’s not a super power? I told you that upfront. I promise—if something bothers me about how we’re communicating, I’ll let you know.

But Jay—just because I’m Deaf doesn’t mean I’m made out of glass. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings if you don’t feel like signing something and you just wanna talk. Fine. That’s okay.

And you don’t have to worry so much about learning ASL. Would I like you to? Yes. Do I expect you to learn it right this instant? No, of course not. I’ll teach you some basics to hold us over, and so you don’t feel so frustrated, but for now: this is just fine.

This is the sign for ‘make.’ This is the sign for ‘coffee.’

See how similar they are? It’s a new language. It’s just as nuanced and complicated as any speaking language. So please, be patient with yourself. These aren’t a series of pointing and miming. We have grammar, sentence structure, tenses, and dialect. You will need time to learn it, just like I did.

But Jay, two things, okay?

Please don’t walk away from me when I don’t understand what’s going on. No one likes that—Deaf or not. It’s a shitty feeling. If you’re upset and you need alone time, text me that. Or, look, this is one sign for ‘done’ or ‘finished.’ Sign that to me and I’ll give you space.

I… you know… that hurt. But we haven’t talked about a lot of this, and we should’ve a while ago.

So.

Second thing.”

Jensen pauses, tapping the screen of his phone for a second. He rubs the back of his neck and concentrates on the next batch of texts, still biting on his lip.

“Which I guess is a bunch of things, actually. Let me get this out of the way first: yeah, there was a social this week. I had no plans of going. I haven’t gone the past three times because, well, I’ve started seeing someone and spending time with them is kind of my priority. You should meet him. Cute. Hazel eyes. Total nerd for Peter Jackson.”

He nudges Jared.

“But okay, okay. Look, the social isn’t some secret hideout. We usually meet in the Starbucks in The Grove, because it’s bigger and we can all sit in a circle. I’ve been going since I was a kid and the community here is pretty tight. But—I can see them any time. Believe it or not, I’ve been having a lot of fun hanging out with you.

I know, seems weird, right? Like, all I wanna do is spend time with my boyfriend.”

Jared rolls his eyes. He texts one thing in response. “You mean all you wanna do is make out with me.”

Grinning, Jensen shrugs. “Well, you can’t possibly blame me for that.”

With a sigh, Jared shakes his head. He motions for Jensen to continue.

“It’s hard to get sarcasm through texts, but look, we just did it. You have to give *us* more credit, Jay. And I get what you’re saying about our ages. Trust me, it’s something I worried about, especially before I asked you out.

But there’s only so much worrying I can do.

I just have to trust you that you’re with me for a reason.

Do you think you could trust me like that?”

Kneels pulled up to his chest, Jared reads that and immediately nods. He’s going to try. That’s all he can do. He’s going to try not to worry _so_ much. He has to—because Jensen trusts him.

“See,” Jensen types, “we’re getting there.”

Jensen leans forward again. He presses another kiss to Jared’s cheek.

However, his expression changes as he types out the next part.

“Now, Anna. Holy fuck, Anna. I can’t even tell you how much is just *wrong* here. First, no one talks to you that way, Jay. I’m sure you handled it much better than I would’ve. I just… this gets complicated and it’s a really long story, so can I give you the TL;DR version?

Okay. I’m good friends with Anna’s sister, Ada. She’s Deaf, we grew up together, and they’re both like sisters to me. Ada graduated last year and she’s had a tough time transitioning from the Deaf community here to a mostly hearing community out of state. So… you know, I went out to visit her last Christmas, with Anna, and Anna’s got it in her head that she’s gotta protect me like she tries to protect Ada. Anyway, ugh, okay…” Jensen scrubs his face. “Anna seems to think Ada and I are soul mates, which, okay, we are pretty close friends. But that’s it. Friends. This is the sign for friends.

I like guys. Well, I guess, you might have already guessed that.

Don’t look at me like that—your ass has its own magical properties. :D

Okay, okay, back to this. I’ve never had much of an attraction to women. But I’m also not so close minded that I don’t know… I guess I’ve always tried to be open to the right person for me. If they’re a guy, great. If they happen to be a woman, I would be okay. I’m rambling, Sorry. See what I meant it’s complicated?

Anna wants me to date Ada. She wants me to transfer from the community college here to the state school Ada’s at. But I can’t. Like, I couldn’t do it before. Definitely can’t now.

Ada is great. I hope you get to meet her this summer. But she’s basically my sister. Anna has never been able to respect that.

Plus… Ada likes women.

She hasn’t come out to anyone but me. Not even Anna.

So. Yeah. Complicated. Messed up on several levels.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to be The Jensen Hour.

But I’ll talk to Anna. What she tried to do and what she did is totally unacceptable. If it happens again, please tell me right away, okay? I know you can fight your own battles, but she’s my friend and I feel responsible. We can handle this together.

All of what we’re talking about—we can tackle it together.

Right?”

Jensen looks up.

He doesn’t have to wait long for his own kiss.

After that, only seconds pass until their hands are off their phones and on each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wouldn't say i'm back from my hiatus/writer's block, but i did manage this. please be gentle, i'm still getting back into the swing of things.
> 
> for those of y'all who have stuck around with this verse, thank you. <3 i appreciate you being here.


	13. Chapter 13

Jared takes to YouTube like a kid in a candy store.

He abandons studying or stressing about the rest of his exams in favor of watching every ASL music video available online. A cover of Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” produces five re-watches and endless tears into his blankets. One video links to ASL poetry, which then leads Jared on an ASL Def Jam Poetry marathon. Not all the videos have English captions, which means he has to sit back and watch the performance without a translation.

The first few times without subtitles, captions, or an English transcript, Jared almost drowns in the sudden immersion. He feels like a baby bird booted from the nest, told to get out and have fun learning how to fly.

But if he can read Elvish, then he can sure as hell get acquainted with ASL.

One of the most distressing occurrences while watching these videos is the lack of sound. After two days of almost non-stop consumption, he notices how much noise there is in his life. It’s not always the sound of people talking—or his mother and sisters arguing—but other things he had never given much thought to before. The furnace in their house kicks in at night; its sound was frightening to Jared as a kid, but now he can’t sleep without hearing the reassuring hum of it.

Silence is another difficult element. Every time he clicks play on a spoken word video—or a music video cover without sound—he braces himself for the lack of noise. Jared admits to himself that it’s odd to watch videos and not hear anything, but still have a message delivered.

Over the weekend, he barely leaves his room, which isn’t unusual in their house.

But it’s different in two ways—first, he’s not watching _Return of the King_ and secretly writing Aragorn/Legolas fan fiction, then masturbating to the thought of Aragorn, King of Men. Second, Jensen isn’t over, so they’re not sitting on the floor of his room discussing how Jared used to write fan fiction and spend the majority of his time masturbating to visions of Aragorn fighting off orcs, and then retreating to a warm cave where there’s nothing but a small fire going and Jared laid out on fur.

Instead of endlessly teasing Jared about his Tolkien fantasies, Jensen has been relegated to graduation responsibilities. And judging by the texts Jared receives every two minutes, Jensen hasn’t exactly been having the best time.

“How many times do you think my mom will make me try on this suit?” A picture of a navy blue suit follows the text.

Pausing the latest video, Jared smiles and rolls his eyes at the messages. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. You love new clothes.”

Instantly, Jensen replies. “I love new clothes that *I* pick out.”

“So pretend it’s me picking out those suits.”

“…uh, no, Jay. You’d have better taste.”

“I like the blue one!”

“Ugh, don’t defend her.”

“I’m not defending anyone,” Jared types furiously to keep up with Jensen. “How many times is she gonna be able to do this though? You only graduate once.”

He can see the expression on Jensen’s face. “No, Jay. No. Now you are definitely defending her. :P”

“I just…” He sends that portion, unsure of continuing. With a sigh, he looks around his room, eyes gravitating towards his bed. It’s tempting to send Jensen some choice pictures, or to divulge in some Tolkien time with Jensen replacing Viggo. He types the rest out and sends it anyway. Might as well. “I like you in suits. Or armor.”

That last part snuck out! Jared flails in his chair, scrambling to see if he can delete the text before it finishes sending.

Too late.

Ellipses appear on screen, meaning that Jensen is already responding two seconds in. Fuck. Fuck. Shit…

“Really?” Jensen asks, his word appearing as a comment after a selfie of himself in a dressing room, only his undershirt and briefs on.

Jared loses the battle and dodges into bed. The videos will be there when he finishes.

Eyes closed, he sets the scene for himself. Winter time, when daily life necessitates a struggle to survive. Gray skies, barren lands, trees stripped of their leaves and forming twisted silhouettes on the horizon. However, the weather means nothing to a King. He could stay in his castle, guarded and rested, but no King earns respect by sitting in idleness. It’s not Jensen’s way, either. He prefers to know firsthand what goes on in the borders of his kingdom instead of receiving reports from a messenger and servant of the court like Jared.

Side by side, mounted on their horses, they ride through a patch of land where miscreants have been spotted. Are they threats to the kingdom? What danger do they pose?

The first night finds them in a cave Jared stays in frequently while on patrol.

And when the King seeks warmth, Jared has a few ideas…

“Jay bird!” Beth bounds into Jared’s room, in a dress so pink flamingos would faint. “Oh, well, _hello_!”

Jared’s eyes snap open. He summons a breath of air so powerful it could catch the attention of Satan himself.

“Get out!” he screeches, flailing and rolling onto his stomach. “Get out of MY room!”

Laughing maniacally, Beth dodges every pillow, book, highlighter, bottle of water, and figurine Jared pitches in her direction. “Aw, c’mon, honey bun! That ain’t nothing I’ve never seen before! Oh ho, almost got me! Now, you have _got_ to help me pick out a dress for graduation. I know I’ll be in that awful gown for the ceremony, but right after I want my dress to say: fuck you, high school!”

“Beth! You left all kinds of shit all over my room!”

“Whatever, Char, this is obviously an emergency.”

“Emergency my _ass_! Jay! Have you seen my phone charger?”

“Step off—Jay bird has to help me pick out a graduation dress.”

“What? Mom already bought you two of them because we were sick of waiting at the mall for your pretty princess ass to decide. Jay, I lent you my charger yesterday.”

“Charlotte Marie Padalecki!”

“You’re cruising for a bruising, Beth!”

“Like that scares me, chicken arms.”

“You look like a deranged flamingo!”

“What would you know about fashion?!”

“I know better than to bathe in the blood of innocent flamingos!”

Jared does not yell. He does not scream.

He beckons a sonic boom.

“EVERYBODY GET OUT OF MY ROOM NOW.”

The second Jared’s door slams closed, he flops onto his back, left hand still down his jeans. Taking in a deep breath, he utilizes every available trope and plot line in his special reserve to pick up where he left off. Something has to work. _Something_. Anything.

One more thing distracts Jared from his restless attempts at rekindling his mood.

Three flashes on his phone remind him that holy shit, Jensen has been texting him.

“Sorry!” Jared groans into his pillow, texting with his right hand. “I uh stuff3r%...” Nothing. Nothing will work. Not even the two new selfies Jensen has sent over—one of him in a gray suit and the other of him in an olive green suit. With the deepest regret a teenage boy can muster, Jared concedes and takes his left hand out of his jeans.

About to read through the most recent texts he missed, a new text pings through.

Jared sits up in his bed to read it.

“Jay!” Another text pops up immediately after—rapid fire style. “Fuck—wait for me!”

Groaning into his pillow yet again, Jared thanks whatever force in the universe bestowed him with such a boyfriend. He also makes a small plea to that force: please don’t let him fuck things up with Jensen.

Because this is way too good. Almost as good as Jensen’s next text.

“I’ll bring my suit! J”

 

ASL is not a series of gestures or pantomimes.

It is its own, complete language with every intricacy and nuance as any other language. Grammar in ASL takes more than watching YouTube videos or liking Tumblr posts. The order of signs matters. There is no vocal component to ASL, and it cannot be aligned directly with English. Translating ASL to English and vice versa requires the same study and effort as translating Spanish to English. ASL is also not universal; signed languages in other countries vary. British Sign Language and American Sign Language share some similarities, but have different signs and meanings.

Grammar in sign language depends on inflection and expression. Furrowing eyebrows represents who/where/when/how questions and eyebrows raised ask yes or no questions. In addition to understanding the signs themselves, plus the order, signers must watch for facial expressions.

Changing facial expressions can alter the meaning of a question or answer.

Jared doesn’t have to know any language to understand the meaning to Jensen’s current expression.

He meant to shower, get dressed, and look somewhat presentable for Jensen. So far, Jared’s Sunday had involved nothing more than lying in bed, rolling around in his blankets, dozing, and teasing his teenaged hormones to new and agonizing levels. There was a promise to wait and Jared kept the promise.

However, Jensen never said anything about taking his hands out of his pants.

“Lock it,” Jared pants, speaking as clearly as possible. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, gasping, increasing the pressure of his right hand wrapped around his cock. Jensen nods, quickly closing the door, standing with his back to it while the lock snaps into place.

Looking up, Jared bites his bottom lip, legs spread as an invitation.

“This okay?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and fans his face, grinning like a loon. He issues two thumbs up and takes a few steps forward. Green eyes shift from humorous to ravenous, skimming over Jared with an appetite fierce enough to cause Jared’s right hand to constrict.

If it were Jared walking, he’d knock over a lamp and trip three times before reaching the bed. Each of Jensen’s quiet, confident steps translate into a glide. Finals? Worries about their relationship? Anxiety over learning a new language and culture? Irritation with his sisters and their lack of respect for his personal space? Dread of going to another one of his mother’s burlesque classes as her dance partner? Even more dread from the fact that in order to take an actual ASL class he’ll have to continue being her dance partner?

It all disappears faster than a hobbit’s second breakfast.

The bed creaks, accepting Jensen’s weight. Kisses rain down from a lean, muscled form. Jensen’s outfit for today was selected for its simplicity—a threadbare seafoam t-shirt and faded dark wash jeans. Jared whimpers the second Jensen’s hand slides over his own, separated only by the thin fabric of Jared’s blue and green pajama pants.

Heated and electric, Jensen groans at the slight twitch of Jared’s cock.

Although Jared spent most of the day in silence—and they don’t use more than expressions or quick hand signals—this is anything but silent. Jared can’t explain what it is, but it’s almost like their hands and actions possess something like sound. Jensen feels intense, every brush of his lips against Jared’s throat fuels tortuous tingling throughout Jared’s body. Arching up, Jared responds, returning each kiss by gradually opening his mouth wider, and tentatively moving their hands.

In response, Jensen moans against the stretch of Jared’s exposed throat. He makes a bold move not long after. Lips pressed against Jared’s, not one kiss breaks or pauses as Jensen guides Jared’s left hand to the tented center of his jeans.

“Ah…” Jared inhales sharp and sudden. He settles in, surrounded by the shadows of broad shoulders and defined biceps. Jensen played baseball his sophomore and junior years.

Eyebrows raised, Jensen asks with his eyes when he settles Jared’s fingers above the zipper to his jeans.

Jared answers without missing a beat. Gripping sleek silver, he tugs down. Any and all resolve crumbles at the uphill friction and steady downward slope. Having tested the waters, Jared bucks into Jensen’s warm, firm hand, and lets out a moan—lips on his jaw.

“Mmph,” Jensen huffs, long eyelashes fluttering. He nudges Jared’s ear, thighs shivering.

Understanding the message, Jared sinks into the scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon. Their hands move in time with each other, feverish strokes leading to curious, excited teasing and exploration. Jared has never felt another cock; Jensen’s is softer than he expected, and thicker in his hand that it’s felt when they rutted against each other in their clothes. It’s all Jared can do not to come within seconds of Jensen touching him in the same way—the rough palm of his hand setting the rhythm, drawing out greedy, needy hedonistic twitches.

In utter torment, Jared pistons his hips to match the relentless, accelerated pace. Somehow, he manages to work his left hand, mirroring Jensen’s right until he inches up, inspired, and traces the bloated tip of Jensen’s cock.

Stunned, Jensen lets out a shout.

Plush lips attack Jared’s neck, jaw, and mouth. Every kiss transforms into something dirtier, rougher, and more tumultuous than before. Licking into Jared’s mouth, Jensen grinds the length of their bodies together, fitting Jared’s legs over his hips.

It almost feels like…

Jared wonders what it would feel like…

“Oh my god!” Jared cries out, his chest heaving. “Jen!”

Not an inch of space remains between Jared’s lips and Jensen’s jaw. Jensen’s shoulders shake with every ragged breath wrung from Jared. Their hips rise. Jensen swivels his hips, coiling, teeth branding the tender expanse of skin on Jared’s neck.

Hips pounding forward, Jensen angles himself a few inches down.

A few seconds after the tip of his cock pushes against Jared’s clenched, tight muscle, Jared drowns in wave after wave of raw, visceral pleasure. His cock spurts a flood—rope after rope of come saturating Jensen’s hand. A few stripes soak his middle, Jensen’s fist pumping mercilessly, wrenching out a second orgasm without pausing.

Covering his mouth, Jared screams, feeling a similar gush of come between his legs. Jensen bites down on Jared’s shoulder, muffling the sounds of him coming in Jared’s hand and against his ass. Rutting against Jared, Jensen tightens his grip and kisses Jared deep enough that they both moan. Twisting, Jared separates their mouths, burying his face in Jensen’s chest, coming all over Jensen’s cock, jeans, and shirt, a white, unmistakable flood marking it all.

Shaking all over, Jared continues softly moaning into strong shoulders, his fingers curled around the nape of Jensen’s neck. Light kisses land on his forehead.

Jared smiles, shy and apologetic about the mess, looking up at Jensen as they lay side by side.

With his clean hand, he signs one thing he learned from his adventure through YouTube today. It’s simple and not a completely formed expression or sentence, but he hopes it works all the same. He presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, laying them flat, then extends his hand out, towards Jensen. This sign nearly looks like blowing a kiss.

“Thank you,” Jared signs, his breathing erratic, hair all over the place, and entire body bathed in incredible afterglow.

Jensen hooks his leg over Jared’s hips. This time, he buries his face in Jared’s shoulder.

He holds Jared close to him, uncaring of the mess, replying just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goodness, what a wait! but i am super appreciative to all who have hung on to this story. a long update for you with smut! <3 let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

“Which one did you pick?”

“Now you ask?”

“Hey, we were busy earlier…”

“Yeah we were.”

“Stop grinning like that.”

“Nope. Can’t help it.”

“My mom’s calling us down for dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m never leaving my bed.”

“:D”

“Stop!”

“:D :D :D”

“:( :( :(“

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. My jeans say otherwise.”

“I apologized! It’ll wash out, right?!”

“Probably… but I probably shouldn’t join you for dinner like this.”

“I have to change too. Shit. I can’t believe… it just got… *everywhere*.”

“Hell yeah it did.”

“I told you to stop grinning, jerk.”

“So bossy today.”

“>_>”

“83”

“I’m being serious.”

“Me too. That’s my serious face. This one too. 8D”

“Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

“Tempting, but I kinda smell like you came all over me. Oh wait, you did…”

“You’re such a smug bastard! I can’t believe you! Who are you? What have you done with the real Jensen?”

“Fear not, tis I! Only the real Jensen could make you come like that. ;)”

“…that’s what you think.”

“Gasp.”

“Hmph.”

“Burn. How will I go on?”

“Maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Just maybe?”

“Stay for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll lend you some pajamas.”

“I can’t stay though. :(“

“But finals are over…?”

“Yeah, but my parents are freaking out about graduation stuff. Apparently, it’s a big deal to them.”

“It’s two weeks away.”

“Yep and in two weeks eighty-five people will be flying or driving in for my graduation party. If I’m not there to veto stuff, my mom will have her way and hire a clown for it.”

“Clowns are creepy.”

“Exactly. So I have to keep her from going overboard.”

“Eighty-five people??”

“Well, she already went overboard with the guest list. Not much I can do about it now.”

“…uh huh.”

“Yes, Jay.”

“What?”

“You’re one of those eighty-five people.”

“Oh. How nice.”

“Don’t be a stinker, don’t start pouting now.”

“This is not pouting. *This* is pouting.”

“Can I show you some signs?”

“Yeah.”

“My. Suit. Blue.”

“Where’s the ‘is’?”

“You don’t need it.”

“…how do I introduce myself at your party?”

“My. Name. Jared.”

“…did I do that right?”

“Sorta. Pointing to yourself is like saying, ‘I.’ Flat palm against your chest is ‘my.’”

“Ugh, sorry. :/”

“It’s okay. Look at the difference between tomorrow and little girl. See? Tiniest difference. It happens.”

“My. Name. Jared.”

“Awesome. One more time.”

“My. Name. Jared.”

“Remember when you’re signing ‘e’ to keep your thumb under your fingers or it looks like a ‘s.’”

“Crap. I can spell my own name, I swear.”

“Ehh…”

“Asshole!”

“Kidding! Wanna know the sign for asshole?”

“Fine, but you’re volunteering to teach it to me.”

“I’ll live. Pretend like you’re giving someone the okay.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, kind of like the letter f, but tilted so it’s sort of like a hole.”

“How reliable are you?”

“Haha.”

“Now what?”

“Flip your hand so the hole is up and your palm is… uh… parallel to the ground.”

“…?”

“Yep. That’s it. Asshole.”

“Asshole.”

“So point to me.”

“Point?”

“It’s not rude like in English. Pointing at someone is saying, ‘you.’”

“You. But how do I say are?”

“You don’t. Remember, it’s not a direct word by word translation.”

“I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous about calling me an asshole?”

“You know what I mean. :P”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.”

“Easy for you to say. Go on. You.”

“You. Now, since you’re pouting, you’re kind of upset, right? So make a mad face.”

“How do I make a mad face?”

“Like… you know… a mad face. See?”

“You don’t look that mad.”

“Jay, just try.”

“I feel weird making the face.”

“You will until you get used to it.”

“I don’t look stupid, do I?”

“No. Expressions are totally part of signing. Look.”

“…damn, that was fast.”

“Don’t look at my hands. Look at my face.”

“You look… happy?”

“Right, because I signed, ‘You learning ASL makes me happy.’”

“…asshole.”

“Perfect form!”

“You. Asshole.”

“I’m gonna regret teaching you that, aren’t I?”

“You. Asshole.”

“You. My. Boyfriend.”

“You. My. Show me again.”

“Boy. Like the Bye, Bye, Bye N*Sync move at your forehead.”

“We’re going to talk about that N*Sync reference later. Uh, okay. Boy.”

“Friend. Tap your pointer fingers together, kind of hooking them. There you go.”

“You. My. Boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

“Yes. Crap, my mom’s calling us again.”

“Clothes? I’d suggest some new clothes for you too…”

“You’re so helpful. Here. They might be a little small?”

“I’ll survive. Thank you.”

“How do I say you’re welcome?”

“There’s not really a sign for it. You just say… ‘cool.’”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

“Asshole.”

“Well… at least you got the sign right. :P”

“Asshole.”

“I’ll just add this lesson to your tab then…”

“Asshole!”

“Look who’s talking!”

“:) You mean look who’s signing.”

“That too. :)”

 

On Monday, Jared’s English teacher asks him to stay after class.

He hardly registers any of the lesson, though he takes thorough notes as usual. Instead of drawing Gandalf in the margins of his notes, he wonders what could be the reason for staying after. Did he do that poorly on the Advanced Placement exam? Were the teachers at the testing center laughing at his responses? What if they then went to their respective homes, and over dinner, told their respective families about Jared’s score? What if, instead of a well-constructed and supported essay, he wrote Aragorn and Legolas fan fiction? What if it was really explicit kind of stuff, like the kind of stuff he thinks about whenever his lips and hips are pressed against Jensen’s?

No—it couldn’t be that. Jared knows he wrote a killer essay. Maybe some of his arguments were stretches, but that’s the information he had to work with. What if his grades have plummeted? What if he did a shit-tastic job on that essay from April they have yet to get back?

What if his teacher discovered that his ability to read quickly wasn’t developed from reading encyclopedias or Hemingway, but from rereading _The Left Hand of Darkness_ three hundred times before the age of thirteen? Jared begins to make a case for himself. Charlie never finished that book and she left it lying around the house. All he did was pick it up and read a few pages. Before he knew it, he was looking up words, researching science-fiction as a genre, and finishing the book within a week. It could have been worse. His mother could have left out one of her Danielle Steel books!

But wait…!

She did.

And Jared read three of them.

It was the summer he sprained his ankle walking to the mailbox—because that is his luck—and spent two weeks on crutches. What else was he supposed to do? He was desperate. His sisters refused to go to the library for him and his mother was working. He reread every magazine, postcard, catalogue, and newspaper twice before succumbing to his favorite—a story about Anastasia’s cousin, who fled to Paris and pursued ballet.

Okay. Calm down. At the ring of the bell signaling the change in hour, Jared decides to approach the matter in the most mature and capable way possible. The room clears out and already, he can breathe a little easier.

“I’ve read more than Danielle Steel, I swear!”

Well, so much for the playing it cool route.

 

After last period, Jared races to the parking lot, hell bent on reaching Jensen in time to explain.

He reaches Jensen and all but throws himself at the older boy. Receiving the embrace with a slight, “oof,” Jensen hugs back. He then places an inch between them, brow furrowed and concern in his eyes. It’s the facial expression for—what the hell is going on? What happened? What’s wrong? What’s going on?

“I had to stay after class,” Jared murmurs, definitely not shaking in Jensen’s arms as if they were on the peak of the Redhorn in the Misty Mountains. “And all my teacher said was that he called my mom and we’re having a meeting with the Principal today—right now!—but he didn’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about and I haven’t really been able to breathe since then because you _know_ how my mom is but what if I never get into college because of what I did or didn’t do in my high school English class?!”

Jensen’s next expression only stands for one thing: what the fuck?

His lips form an O and he mouths, “Ooookay.” Running a hand through his hair, he frowns just slightly, trying to come up with a way to handle Jared’s panic attack and paranoia. It isn’t easy. And it doesn’t become easier when Jared flinches at the sound of his mother.

“Jared Tristan Padalecki!” Middle name. Oh god, the middle name. “I never expected to be called here to meet with the Principal because of you! Oh no, don’t hide behind Jensen. Let’s go, young man.”

At this rate, Jared might as well lay down in front of a Balrog and call it quits. Never mind the whole join King Jensen on a heroic quest that will save not only their kingdom, but the race of men. Never mind being singled out as King Jensen’s beloved and standing proudly at his side during battle and ceremony. Never mind the costume sketches Jared had been working on in Algebra before English.

“Hey,” Jensen says in English.

The sound of his voice snaps Jared out of his deluge of panic. Green eyes lock with his, intent on delivering a message with all of Jared’s attention on hand. Jared blushes, his hands on Jensen’s arms, and Jensen’s hands on his shoulders.

“I will drive you home.”

Jared’s chest squeezes. He can’t handle his adolescent anxiety, the screeching of his own mother a mere two feet away, _and_ the wonderful words of an Armani model that happens to be his boyfriend. It’s all too much for his poor, poor heart. He’ll wither away and die like any other undiscovered literary genius. Though he hadn’t really expected to die this way; he had envisioned something a little more… epic.

Jensen kisses Jared’s nose.

And Jared leaves, dragging his feet after his mother, both hands over his nose and his entire face on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness! an update! been a better week around these parts. i've recently been diagnosed with fibromyalgia and an auto-immune disorder, and i've got a few other health issues on top of those going on. so it's been a bit rough for me lately. i have good days and i have bad days. it's tough to write on bad days when i'm hurting all over and can't concentrate, but today was a good day. thank you for your patience in updates across the board. <3


	15. Chapter 15

There has to be some literary reference to accurately describe the amount of dread, pain, and suffering Jared undergoes in the long walk to the Principal’s office and sitting in the waiting area.

Nope.

He’s got squat.

And he’s read Edgar Allan Poe.

No one takes any pity on him—not his mother, his English teacher, or the Principal’s secretary. Even his mind becomes Brutus, stabbing him, subjecting his consciousness to every horrible outcome possible instead of his usual daydreams of Jensen in a King’s armor, wielding a sword forged from the mountains of…

“Doom,” the Principal announces in the doorway of her office. Doom?! No, that’s not the name of the mountains at _all_. Jared stands, realizing three panicked breaths later that she actually said, “Done.”

Ushered into her office—nearly a library at this point, replete with Easton Press editions Jared would gladly trade various limbs for—he hides under the cover of his mother and the Principal exchanging small talk. Principal Everly motions for the three of them to sit down. Jared winds up in the torture seat—in the seat between his mother and his English teacher. Trapped in enemy territory, though the literature available does have its appeal, escape is impossible. Resistance is futile. Screaming will get him nowhere.

To think that he had planned a hunting trip for his charge. It would have been a respite from his kingly responsibilities. The castle halls will soon be packed with relations and well-wishers and all sorts of folks demanding attention and care. And though Jared had supposed a little time to refresh the King’s physical vigor could do no harm, time together in sport and the study of the land had been the goal.

Clapping her hands together, Principal Everly makes eye contact with Jared.

“Well now,” she says with a smile he has no idea how to interpret, “this is a change, Mr. Padalecki. Usually, I’m speaking with one of your sisters.”

“I had no idea Beth would bring in a dildo to school,” Jared blurts out. “Really, I didn’t. She doesn’t tell me much because… oh.”

Jared’s mother and Principal Everly share the same expression of shock and the beginnings of outrage.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jared lets out a stilted laugh. “Oh… heh… I guess… I guess she hasn’t done that yet.”

“No.” Writing something down on a canary post-it, Principal Everly sighs. “Though I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised.” She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands. Leaning forward on her chair, Principal Everly clasps her hands over the desk. “Ahem, well. Let’s get down to business. Mr. Shea and I have been in contact throughout the semester.”

Witness to the spectacle, Jared’s English teacher nods. He never had the privilege of teaching either older Padalecki siblings, but Jared knows something must have trickled down to him in the teacher’s lounge. There was that essay Charlie wrote last year about the importance of female orgasms in Western literature. After two hours with Principal Everly, the English teacher, Charlie, and their mother, Charlie walked out with an A on the paper and the advice to please, please, _please_ stick to the assignments given in class. And the year before that, Beth called her English teacher a sexist, transphobic asshole, which was entirely true, it’s just that she commandeered the school’s intercom system to say it.

With enough personality between each of his sisters, Jared has so far been content to be known as the quiet one. It’s not that he isn’t proud of his sisters’ achievements; he would just prefer to make his own way in the world away from the spotlight.

Mr. Shea’s voice emerges for the first time since they’ve sat down. “I haven’t had a freshman take an Advanced Placement test in years.” Papers slip out of his messenger bag. “From our first essay, Jared has proven himself capable of analyzing text years ahead of his peers.”

“He’s always holed up in his room…” His mother sighs, shooting a brief smile his way, and flips through the pages. “Always reading.”

Thankfully, no one pays attention to his mother’s timing. Mr. Shea continues, speaking with more enthusiasm than he shows in class. “It’s more than just being an avid reader. Jared has the ability to observe nuances in literature and support his arguments that I wasn’t taught until my freshman year of college. Here…” He shuffles through his bag. “I asked the kids to pick one book off a list and write an argumentative essay. Jared chose _Beloved_ by Morrison.”

“What did most of his class choose?” Principal Everly smiles, but Jared has no idea how to read hers.

Shoulders slumped, Mr. Shea admits, “ _The Great Gatsby_.”

All three adults share the same expression.

Jared fidgets in his seat, wishing the Witch-King of Angmar would swoop in on his nazgul. Because then at least Jared would know what the Witch-King would want—to destroy the race of man and everyone in his way. Witch-Kings are straightforward like that.

“We gave Jared permission to take both AP English tests—Literature and Language.” Principal Everly sits back in her chair. Is she relaxed? Is she lulling Jared into a false sense of peace? “We’ve been fortunate enough to receive Jared’s scores today.”

His heart can’t take the suspense. What were his scores? Did he forget to sign his name? Did he forget to fill in the scantron sheet? Was it all a dream? Is this a dream and is he instead half-dead on the outskirts of Carn Dum? Couldn’t his mind think of a better death hallucination than being a teenage boy sitting with his mother and English teacher in the Principal’s office?

Mr. Shea hands Jared a half-sheet of paper.

Plainly printed in the center, his scores stare back at him.

“F-five?” Jared squeaks out. “I got fives?”

Clapping him on the back, his mother laughs. “Oh, the look on your face! It’s precious.” She takes out her phone and proceeds in taking a picture, commemorating his shock.

“Mom!”

“What?! I paid $90 a pop for you to take those tests.”

Jared takes in a deep breath and lets it out slow. Fives. That’s the highest score possible on an AP test. This means that not only has he already earned college credit, but… “Next semester,” he starts, heart racing faster than the nazgul flies. “What about next semester?”

Motioning to Mr. Shea, Principal Everly defers to him.

“I think you’d do well in a different environment.” Tucking Jared’s papers back into his bag, Mr. Shea nods and looks up at his captive audience. “Aside from some social adjustment, I see no reason why you couldn’t start at our local community college in the fall.”

Before Jared can jump on the desk and whoop in glee, Principal Everly and his mother address their concerns.

“For English,” Principal Everly clarifies. “We will enroll Jared in a program for one college-level English class each semester. The rest of his classes will continue here.”

“Can he transfer those credits out when he graduates?”

“Most four-year universities in the area accept transfer credits from the CC.”

“Alright,” his mother says, patting his arm. She looks back at Principal Everly. “Now here’s my tough question: what’s this going to cost me?”

Plans evolve right in front of Jared. The adults discuss numbers, resources, scholarships, FAFSA, textbooks, and exactly how Jared will be transported to and from each school. Mr. Shea explains the registration process and the eventual orientation Jared will attend in August, but Jared doesn’t absorb any of it. Words and numbers sluice right off of him. Cogs in his mind turn. There’s something here he wanted to bring up, something else other than English. Something important.

“Oh!” he gasps, holding his hand up as if asking a question in class. Realizing where he is and who he’s with, he yanks his arm down, blushing as bright as The Great Eye. “Sorry, I just… I’ll be a college student, right?”

“Technically, you’ll be a part-time college student,” Mr. Shea answers, “but yes. You’ll be registered and enjoy some of the privileges as others on that campus.”

“You will still be a student here,” Principal Everly adds. “The majority of your coursework remains with us.”

“Right.” Jared bites his lower lip, looking down at his sneakers. In an effort of bravery, he makes direct eye contact with Mr. Shea. “Do you think I could take an elective over the summer? To… to help me adjust before fall? Summer registration has already started…”

Mr. Shea frowns. “Well, it would depend on the type of elective, Jared.”

“Remember,” Principal Everly chimes in again, “this is only for English.”

“I know,” he assures them. “I understand and I’m… I’m very excited for that.” Excited isn’t quite accurate enough; more like he could go on the intercom and tell all of his classmates that _The Great Gatsby_ is representative of the typical white, male, American view point, totally ignorant and uncaring towards the perspectives of others. He’ll be taking college classes! His college _professor_ will assign him challenging materials, engage him in Socratic-method discussions, and best of all, teach him how to parry with words until any and all challengers back down in defeat!

Breathless, Jared makes his desperate plea.

“Please, let me take American Sign Language 101 over the summer!”

Fifteen minutes later, a Jared-sized rocket launches into Jensen’s arms.

As soon as Jensen manages to pry Jared off of him and into his car, he reads the text Jared sent while he was still in Principal Everly’s office.

“I CAN TAKE ASL THIS SUMMER!”

Their lips meet in a battle Jared aims to win. He loses his hands in Jensen’s hair. Jensen’s hands shoot directly south, cupping Jared’s ass, groping firmly, making him gasp and groan. Like teenaged bunnies in spring, they start making out in Jensen’s car. Shirts rucked up, jeans tented, and the laws of physics ignored, every kiss sizzles, releasing steam to inhale and exhale right back. Lips meet teeth meet tongues and breathy moans and desperate hands.

This is something not even the Witch-King could interrupt.

This is pure, carnal passion, pent up and released, unstoppable, un…

“Hey!” Jared’s mother slaps the palm of her hand on Jared’s window. “Get a room!”

Taking a picture of the two of them—tangled up, on the edge of debauchery—she throws her head back and cackles.

Jared covers his face with his hands and peeks out at Jensen. He apologetically signs, “Sorry.”

Jensen just grins. He takes Jared’s hand and places it on the Armani-worthy tent of his jeans.

In the backseat of Jensen’s car, right in the parking lot at school, no sign or word is needed for the next fifteen minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick-ish update! please enjoy and leave me comments. :D i love hearing from y'all! <3


	16. Chapter 16

Graduation threatens to tear apart Jensen’s family.

One week before the big day and instead of shopping for tablecloths and place settings, the Padaleckis feed and house an extra teenager for the weekend.

“She’s ridiculous,” Jensen writes in their notebook at lunch. A smidge of barbecue sauce stands out on the corner of the current page, purely Jared’s fault. He can’t write and eat chicken nuggets at the same time. Jensen’s blue pen blazes past each line in a fury of raw emotion. Jared studies the expression on Jensen’s face as they sit at the kitchen island.

Half an hour ago, Beth dumped an entire package of frozen chicken nuggets onto a cookie sheet, stuck it in the oven for an undetermined amount of time, and left for the mall with a group of friends that would intimidate the women from Sex and the City. Charlie somehow sensed that the nuggets were done and led her hoard of nerds downstairs to feast. Her group of cronies have been involved in a tabletop game since dawn, so Jared isn’t sure which sister poses a larger threat to humanity—the one shopping for a graduation dress and their mother’s credit card or the one who hasn’t slept in twenty-six hours hell bent on forcing every opponent to concede or lose all their life points in order to be declared the winner.

Jared was too busy making out with his Armani boyfriend the whole morning to pay much attention to lunch. Unfortunately, their stomachs disagreed with their plans to fool around in Jared’s room all day, making a trip to the kitchen necessary.

Charlie managed to save a plate of chicken nuggets for Jared and Jensen, and unlike Beth, she didn’t use up all the barbeque sauce. She did retreat back into her room—where occasional dirge-like chanting echoes out into the hallway—so it almost feels like they have the whole house to themselves.

Finally, Jensen passes back the notebook.

He crosses his arms and huffs.

“Wow,” Jared scrawls, underlining his reaction, eyes wide in emphasis. “Should I charge for this session?”

Jensen throws a chicken nugget at his face.

“Don’t waste nuggets!” Jared switches to a purple pen, glaring at Jensen while eating the offending nugget. “These are preciousssssss.”

Green eyes roll so hard, they begin their journey to the ends of the earth.

“There’s all this fuss about the party, I can’t take it. She’s convinced that we need to have some huge event to show her hearing side of the family that look! Her Deaf kid graduated high school! He’s just like your hearing kids! Ugh. And if I don’t tell her exactly what _shade_ of green I want the tablecloths on the picnic tables, she gets upset. But then if I tell her I want bright green tablecloths, she just ignores me and says that she’ll pick up something royal blue because those are our school colors and holy fuck I cannot win. And there’s my dad, totally paranoid about the lawn. I swear, Jay, I think he’s measuring every single blade and clipping them with scissors. Then my Aunt Tilda called last night and wanted to know if we’re going to have dancing at my party. Not because she really cared, she just wanted to make sure my mother wouldn’t allow anyone to play ‘inappropriate’ music. Hello?! Half of our family is Deaf! DEAF. Sometimes I feel like ***I*** have to scream at my hearing family!”

“…”

“What?”

“Uh…”

“What is it?”

“I should definitely charge you for this session.”

Barbeque sauce finds itself smeared all over Jared’s nose.

Jared’s nose doesn’t really mind.

 

To calm Jensen’s nerves, they withdraw from the kitchen and settle back into Jared’s room.

Or, more accurately put, they settle back into Jared’s bed.

A warm breeze flutters in from the open window. Buckets of sunlight wash everything in a cheerful, peaceful hue of sunflower yellow. Afternoon minutes stroll by in a series of escalating kisses and intensified groping. Every kiss results in the sweetest smacking sound. And as Jared spreads his legs open further to accommodate muscular thighs and the heavy, flushed cock between them, his head swims.

He’s never touched another cock before. Or had one pressed firm and solid against his own.

Breathing hard, Jared grips onto Jensen’s shoulders. They watch Jared’s cock react to Jensen’s pushed against it, their slick, sensitive heads smoothing over each other’s. Fascinated, Jensen begins rocking his hips back and forth. They’ve done this numerous times now, but never completely naked.

“Ahh,” Jared squeaks out, covering his mouth and blushing.

Jensen looks to Jared due to his movement; his eyes inquire.

At least three hundred thousand responses and questions flit through Jared’s mind. More. Not enough. What does more look like? What if he doesn’t like it? But he likes everything about this…

And he adores everything he sees. Sun-kissed, freckled skin, defined hip bones, and tight, solid abs.

Biting on his bottom lip, Jared responds to Jensen by laying back on the nest of pillows underneath them. Jared glances at his hands. Jensen understands to follow. Smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets, Jared’s hands remain relaxed. The sheets feel cool and fresh to the touch. His fingers skim across, light and playful—inviting.

In response, Jensen clasps his hands over Jared’s.

The eye contact that follow leaves Jared momentarily breathless.

Though, watching Jensen kneel and then lay down switches Jared’s lungs into overdrive. His chest rises and falls swiftly, puffs of air exhaled in anticipation. Freckled fingers tap Jared’s hands for attention.

One tap. Jensen nods—yes.

Two taps. Jensen shakes his head—no.

He raises his eyebrows, asking.

Shuddering, Jared responds. He taps Jensen’s hands once and nods.

They won’t have text messages or their notebook here. The further they go, the more they’ll rely on each other. Anxiety keeps itself absent in this moment. It allows Jared the freedom to run a hand through Jensen’s hair and moan as the first inch of himself slips into Jensen’s mouth.

Past pink, pouty lips, the rounded head of his cock disappears. The heat, humidity, and sultry velvet sensations combine with the perfect vision of Jensen’s lips rolling over the hard shaft inch by aching inch.

At the hilt, Jensen groans, the rumble pulsating over the most private part of Jared.

Hands gripped onto the sheet, Jared lets out a noise nearly feral, purely wild and raw.

The tip of his cock bumps against the back of Jensen’s throat. Jensen opens his mouth wider, inhaling in measured breaths. Pressure escalates.

And then Jensen opens his eyes.

Passionate, committed, emerald green—Jared tosses his head back, lost and completely, utterly affected.

Movement happens next. Jared struggles to draw in enough air. He can feel his ass clenching, the muscles in his thighs and lower stomach working, and his hips instinctively pushing up and up and up. Jensen blows him with a starving, demanding voracity, popping off only to allow Jared the gift of that sound. Again and again, Jensen swallows him, ravenous over his slick, slippery surface. Every profound plunge into Jensen’s mouth and throat releases a compulsive, insatiable, overwhelming need.

Pleasure transforms into carnal agony. Close. So close. Unbearably close.

Jared signals with a squeeze of Jensen’s hands. He’s going to come. He’s going to come. He’s…

Jensen’s lips seal over the tender crown, applying direct pressure, the tip of his tongue flickering over the twitching slit. With his right hand, he grips Jared by the base of his cock and strokes up to his lips and back down. Powerful, pumping, and rough, Jensen wrings Jared past the blissful edge.

Screaming into a pillow, Jared comes, watching the entire time, witnessing the beauty of Jensen swallowing the first thick ropes of come. Jensen pops off, loud and wet, purposefully messy, licking his shining lips. His hand works faster, drawing out what seems like fire, and Jared comes again in a veritable fit, spurting all over Jensen’s handsome face.

Come drips down freckled cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. It drips down Jensen’s chin, prompting him to lick his lips again, closing his eyes for a second to indulge in the taste.

Practically crying, Jared trembles against the mattress, winded in the aftermath.

Eyes open once more, Jensen raises his eyebrows, biting down on his lips.

Jared requires a few seconds to piece together the question. He notices Jensen’s right hand moved, stroking his own still hard, aching cock. Unable to move his hands, Jared nods, stretching out, tilting his hips up and allowing Jensen what he hopes is a spectacular view.

Jensen’s breath hitches. He thrusts into his fist, holding himself above Jared’s middle.

Their eyes lock once more.

This time, Jared mouths his one command.

“Come.”

Covering his mouth with his left hand, Jensen covers Jared in silky, warm stripes of come, some of it landing in pools on Jared’s chest.

Open arms accept Jensen as he flops down onto the mattress, breathing raspy against the comforting curve of Jared’s shoulder. They pay no attention to the mess between them. The only movement Jared engages in is to wipe off Jensen’s face with a corner of the sheet, dabbing, laughing when Jensen snorts.

His come graces Jensen’s nose.

Jensen’s nose doesn’t mind.

Jared licks it off and makes a face.

At first capability, he writes in their notebook.

“It tasted like barbeque sauce?!?!?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! finally some more porn! :D 
> 
> bless the person who invented blow jobs. 
> 
> leave me comments! comments are love. <3


	17. Chapter 17

It turns out that Jared really, really likes receiving blowjobs.

The day before Jensen’s graduation party—with only three actual days of school left for Jensen and four for Jared—they abandon any and all other afterschool activities. Since the very first introduction to what Jensen’s lips and mouth could do, Jensen has blown Jared three times after. There have been a few somewhat awkward situations neither one of them could adequately communicate to each other—like the time Jared came in about zero to sixty seconds. But since no one has lost an eye or suffered any other grievous injuries, here they are yet again, shut up in Jensen’s room.

One of the worst signs Jensen has taught Jared so far is the sign for “need.”

Followed by the sign for blowjob.

So far, it’s been enough for Jared to sign, “Need,” and point to Jensen. It’s not a difficult sign; all Jared has to do is tuck his thumb under his fingers and raise his pointer finger in a hook shape. The need for blowjobs in Jared’s world has increased an unsurprising one hundred thousand percent.

And in a very, very rare, unprecedented turn of events, Jared really, really likes it when Jensen gropes his ass. There doesn’t need to be a specific moment for Jared to enjoy the groping.

Like now.

Jensen makes everything easy. He doesn’t come on too strong, but his hands squeeze and lips press firm enough for Jared to know exactly what his intent is. They wrestle and tumble around in Jensen’s bed before they break, panting and both of them warm. Jensen’s open window provides a refreshing breeze. Occasionally, Jared hears cars drive by or kids down the block enjoying a bright June afternoon outside.

“You okay?” Jensen taps Jared’s thigh to get his attention.

Exhaling, Jared weakly signs, “Yes.”

How can Jensen ask that? Doesn’t he look in the mirror every morning? No, of course he’s _not_ okay—look at his boyfriend! Jensen has moved down on the bed, settled in between the space of Jared’s outspread legs. Pink, pouty lips hover mere inches away from the obvious and aching tent in Jared’s jeans. Blond hair practically begs to be pulled on. And the freckles. Those things scream for Jared to come all over them.

Curious eyes gauge Jared’s expression. They catch the blush in Jared’s face. Lips follow after, forming a smile to blanket Jared in all kinds of toe-curling feelings.

Still, Jensen understands the pressing, adolescent need between Jared’s legs.

It still feels new. Jensen’s hands tugging down Jared’s jeans and boxer briefs feels new, even though those same hands have done that before. The same goes for Jensen curling his fingers around Jared’s cock, grasping it from the base and applying a slight amount of pressure just enough for Jared to gasp.

Every day, Jensen teaches Jared a few new signs. They’re all simple signs, and Jared knows he’s not learning grammar or structure, but it’s a start. He can sign that he likes something, doesn’t like something, and introduce himself. What surprises Jared, however, is the transition from the hearing world to the Deaf world. It’s not that he identifies as Deaf, but he understands that identity more even with the most basic ASL. In practicing these signs at home, he turns off all music and other sounds, spending hours without sound. He gets used to watching YouTube videos without any sound but plenty of content.

In fact, outside of his quiet space practicing ASL or spending time with Jensen, sound seems so harsh.

Even his own moans filter into his ears differently.

Jensen’s tongue flicks at the sensitive head, curling under the crown before it swipes up again. At the slit, Jensen laps up the generous amount of come already there. Looking up at Jared, Jensen smirks, checking in. Jared nods, trying to control the shaking in his thighs and the urge to come. The thought of Jensen makes him hard on a whim—zero to sixty. Teasing and what could be considered worship? Jared fights to hold out, moving his right hand from the bed to Jensen’s hair.

Of course, Jensen maintains eye contact, dragging out kitten licks and kisses to the tip of Jared’s cock. Under these ministrations, Jared’s cock twitches, harder than ever, sensitive and response to the smallest action.

Decadent lips finally seal themselves around the drooling head and suck. Jared moans, bucking, praying to the universe for the ability to hold out for just another minute—at least. But it’s so unfair. So fucking unfair. For every tug to Jensen’s hair he gives, Jensen hollows his cheeks, increasing the pressure. Then he swallows Jared down until the head bumps the back of his throat.

At a languid, unhurried pace, Jensen pulls back up, until his lips settle over the crown.

Then his tongue _starts_. It moves in a quick, relentless rhythm, licking and lapping with intensity. Around and around, Jensen’s tongue works over the head, never forgetting to apply pressure on the crown with his lips. Jared wriggles on the bed in response. He lifts his hips and tries to get Jensen to swallow him down whole again. Spreading his legs, offering the potential for more, he nodes once Jensen looks up again.

Popping off, Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jared stares at the sight before him—Jensen giving him a blow job.

With a groan, Jared shudders. He runs his thumb over Jensen’s cheek.

Understanding, Jensen simply opens his mouth, lips forming a circle. Jared takes a deep breath before tilting his hips up. He pushes his cock past those plump lips and into Jensen’s wet, hot mouth. Slack now, Jensen hums for a few seconds, encouraging Jared to keep going.

If he was alone, Jared would be laying down, both hands occupied. But he’s not and that makes all the difference. His eyes remain open to watch his cock disappear inch by inch into Jensen’s mouth. After a few tantalizing strokes forward, Jared’s cock shines with spit. On the next push, Jensen helps, taking more of Jared’s cock. Jared tugs on Jensen’s hair as a warning. Be careful, Jared adds by giving another, smaller tug. He could come at any moment from each push, watching and feeling Jensen’s mouth open…

Fortunately, Jensen sees this as an opportunity.

Just like that, they go from fooling around, teasing and basking, to a full on blow job of every teenager’s dreams—filthy, wet, scorching.

Instinctively, Jared pulls Jensen’s hair, arching his hips up. The rhythm between them sparks and connects with every angled stroke, thrust, and pulse. Drawing in sharp, desperate breaths of air, Jared’s chest heaves. His legs begin to tremble, thighs vibrating from the tortuous combination of Jensen’s fingertips digging into the swell of his ass, the sight of his cock visibly pushing against Jensen’s cheek, and the building sublime, brutal, and intoxicating pressure in his hips, cock, and balls.

Jensen opens his throat and relaxes his tongue. He drags his fingers down Jared’s ass, releases, then starts all over, hard enough so there’s no question there will be marks. His hands squeeze one last time, followed by a groan that sends strong, merciless vibrations up and down Jared’s cock.

Everything centers on sensation, sight, and wild waves of electric ache.

His hips barely land on the mattress before rising up again, fucking this space reserved just for him. Here, right here, in the back of Jensen’s throat, the world narrows into creamy, fluttering compulsion. He feels Jensen’s ragged exhales. He inches closer and closer to fulfilling this appetite.

Fevered and flushed, Jared winds up in a knot of pleasure so overwhelming it borders on heart stopping agony. His hips break free of any set rhythm. Rattling inside his ribcage, his heart pounds, practically bruising itself in the chase.

Whatever noise escapes Jared’s mouth doesn’t compare to the picture of perfection before him, between his legs. Jensen’s head bobs, blowing Jared in long, urgent slurps until he feels the exact response he’s been waiting for—Jared’s cock swells and the tip twitches around the solid space between the roof of Jensen’s mouth and his tongue. That same tongue curls back down underneath the crown, licking quick over inflamed nerve endings.

Jared struggles to keep his eyes open. Don’t close them. Don’t close them. Watch. Watch. Watch…

“Jen!” Jared punches out a scream. His fingers pull at fine blond hair and his feet rise, knees tilting towards his chest. He resists, just to draw out a touch of pain, heaving, shaking, arching. His body replies—forceful and insistent. The first spurt of come catches him off guard. Releasing control, Jared watches himself come—first down Jensen’s open and willing throat.

Second all over Jensen’s face, the flat plane of his tongue, over the bridge of his nose, covering patches of freckles. Ropes of come lace handsome features, drip down to his chin and the top of his lips.

“Uhn…”

Completely lost, Jared maintains hazy eye contact, eyes fluttering as Jensen’s right hand continues to stroke him. As if that first orgasm wasn’t enough, Jensen pushes this boundary, challenging, slapping the tip of Jared against his tongue. Come is all over Jensen’s face.

He doesn’t care.

All he does is close his eyes for a moment, long eyelashes resting against his stained cheeks. Mouth open, his hand applies more and more pressure, wrist twisting, the slit of Jared’s cock pointed directly at his tongue. Wicked, half-mad, Jensen licks his lips, catching some of the come on his top lip, mouth shiny and wet, hungry and ready as he wrings out a second, punishing orgasm.

This time, Jared can’t help but close his eyes for a moment. He writhes with total abandon, every muscle in his body screaming, his nipples hard and peaked. Eyes open again, he catches sight of the last few spurts of come squirting out onto Jensen’s tongue, collecting in a thick, milky pool.

Three strokes later, Jared releases his hold from Jensen’s hair. He winces at the fourth or fifth stroke, putting his hand up and shifting his hips away from Jensen’s hand. Too much. Over… over… stim…

Jensen taps Jared’s thigh, gently easing Jared’s legs down onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck,” Jared groans, biting his bottom lip.

His cock gives the most pathetic twitch in response to Jensen smiling, sticking his tongue out, come still on it, and promptly swallowing.

Unable to move, think, or breathe properly, Jared stares, mesmerized by the show Jensen puts on. There’s still the matter of come all over his face. So what does he do? He swipes at each rope with his fingertips and licks it off slow, taking his time.

“Dinner and a show,” Jensen signs, proud of himself.

Dead to the world, Jared nods, pretty sure his IQ shot out of his cock just now. He can’t even sign yes, the easiest sign ever.

There was some point in coming over to Jensen’s today. Well, besides coming.

It had something to do with helping him put together goodie bags for his cousins.

But it’s difficult to think after being blown, plus coming twice, plus continuing to drink the sight of Jensen in no rush at all to lick come off his fingers. It’s an effort just to sigh when Jensen hefts himself up, pressing their foreheads together.

The Armani model closes his eyes, lets out a satisfied sigh of his own, and presses his lips against Jared’s. They stay like that for a second. Jensen slips his tongue into Jared’s mouth and allows him the taste of his own come. Jared shivers, moaning and kissing back. He wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck and tugs him down. Jensen’s clothes are still annoyingly on, though a slightly dark, damp patch on his jeans suggests that the blow job wasn’t completely one-sided.

Nose to nose, Jared laughs. He stretches out on the bed. Jensen runs a clean hand through Jared’s hair and cups his cheek. Without an ounce of hesitation, Jared leans into his hand. He breathes in deep, inhaling scents of his own come and Jensen.

There’s time yet in the afternoon to practice more signs, fool around, and fool around some more. They probably have to eat sometime in between all of that, and help with the party, but Jensen—in being older and therefore wiser—brought up some bottles of water and a bag of chips to his room for sustenance. These stores will last them for at least another round of incredibly hot fooling around.

And maybe, Jared thinks as he tentatively licks Jensen’s cheek, he can test his theory.

Does reading about, fantasizing over, and receiving blow jobs make a person good at giving them?

Jensen groans, kisses Jared rough and quick, and sits up. In one fluid movement, he takes off his shirt. The poor shirt is forced to lead a new life, discarded onto the floor with their backpacks and sneakers. Somehow, this Armani model straddles Jared’s legs, shirtless in all his glory, looking like the image of debauchery. His hands steal the show from his chest, palming his cock through denim then slowly tugging down on the zipper.

If Jared dies right now, can anyone blame him?

Reaching into his jeans, Jensen grasps his cock, stroking himself a few times before taking his hands off and allowing Jared to enjoy the sight of it still sticky with come.

He pushes his hips forward and Jared groans the second their cocks touch.

Nothing’s going to get done today.

Well… that’s not exactly true…

Bright lights flash from the bulbs around Jensen’s door.

They both flinch, though Jensen tips backwards a bit, losing his balance. The resulting view is spectacular, but holy shit—someone’s at the door! How didn’t Jared hear footsteps down the hall? He’s so used to noise at his house, that when he visits Jensen’s, the peace and quiet lulls him into a false sense of security. And even though they’re usually quick to respond to knocks on Jared’s door from one of his sisters or his mother—Mom!—announcing that dinner is ready, they aren’t quite fast enough now.

Jensen’s door swings open.

Standing there isn’t Jensen’s mom. Or his dad. Somehow, this person is worse.

Ada drops her purse, frozen in place.

Not even the king and his beloved guard can fight their way out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the end of that smut scene, i was also a little disoriented. where am i? what am i doing? oh... oh yeah... 
> 
> phew! well, thank you for waiting, thank you for reading, thank you for... you! :D i'm so happy to post an update. i hope my muse continues to visit. today's been a good day, even though the weather keeps messing with me. i hope y'all are doing well! leave me comments, i love each and every one of them. <3
> 
> thank you! (also, i will never get tired of jared roleplaying king!jensen in his head...)


	18. Chapter 18

Jared doesn’t need the picture on Jensen’s bulletin board to know that this is the infamous Ada. What he does need, however, is a stiff drink. Well, whatever that means.

Ada looks just like Anna.

But she doesn’t act like Anna.

Immediately, she shuts Jensen’s door, waiting in the hallway until Jensen joins her. She doesn’t linger in the doorway to make a scene or prove some kind of point. Jensen repeatedly signs, “Sorry,” to Jared while he makes himself somewhat presentable. Jared numbly nods and mimics Jensen’s actions—wiping his own face off with one of Jensen’s shirts handed to him. He responds to the frantic energy exuding from Jensen by turning inside himself. They’re used to being interrupted by his family—especially his sisters—but Ada is different.

Insecurity slithers its way into Jared, starting in his chest and spreading like fire. Zero to sixty and he’s already doubting himself, their relationship, and every happiness in his life. Maybe Anna is right. No, she’s more than maybe right, especially since he’s proving her wrong in this very moment.

Armani models do not keep company with imaginary guards for very long.

Where is all of his damn confidence and self-esteem from before?!

“This is so…” Jensen texts, handing his phone to Jared, not bothering to send it. “I’m really sorry. Can you wait here for just a second?”

Enough of his brain returns to his body to accept the phone and reply. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

Jensen eyes Jared carefully before leaning over and pecking a kiss to cheek. He cups Jared’s chin, rubbing his bottom lip with a well of seemingly infinite tenderness. It’s not at all like Jared had just finished coming all over Jensen’s face after a blow job of epic talent. The action retains a dreamlike quality—and that’s a problem.

Hurriedly getting dressed, Jared contemplates his options.

He could sneak out the window and flee... it’s tempting, but he promised Jensen not to run off like that again. And it doesn’t seem incredibly mature.

A hole in Jensen’s bed could open up, transporting Jared to a parallel universe where he already knows ASL and has a super buff body. Or maybe he’s just two years older. That doesn’t seem too likely. With his luck, he’ll end up being transported to a universe without Armani models.

Or, he can take a swig of water, put his grownup cap on, and address the situation like the confident, capable, level-headed adult some people believe him to be.

Tugging his shirt back on, Jared pouts at the bed—sans hole.

Maybe it’s better he didn’t fall into another dimension or parallel universe. Taking small steps, he inches towards the door and hallway. Jensen’s hands are the first thing he notices. They’re expressive and enthusiastic. And way too fast for Jared to follow. He can catch basic signs here and there—sorry, my, school, need—but everything else overwhelms him.

Ada signs back just as fast. Her hands fly in the air, creating elegant shapes, seamlessly transitioning from one sign to another. Further, her facial expressions and body language match up perfectly, aligned with her signs, making them devoid of awkwardness or breaks in communication. She also has a ton in common with Jensen. They sign back and forth like old friends.

Which is what they are.

Jared mentally kicks himself in the ass. Jensen explained all of this already. Calm down. Of course Ada’s going to know ASL fluently. Of course she’s going to have a lot to talk about with Jensen.

Calm. Logical. Thoughts. Calm. Logical…

“Jay!” Jensen turns and grins at Jared, signing his name. He places his left arm around Jared’s shoulders so he can keep signing with his right. “This is A-D-A.” Introducing Jared, Jensen follows the fingerspelling with a sign Jared hasn’t seen before—the letter J signed right at the corner of his mouth.

The world practically stops as Ada signs something Jared doesn’t understand, then extends her left hand for a handshake. Oh god. What now? Calm. Logical. Thoughts. Calm. Logical. Thoughts.

A gentle squeeze of Jared’s shoulder grounds him back in reality.

“Nice…” Jared’s hands hesitate in their motions. He’s one hundred and ten percent sure he’s speaking like a baby right now. “…to meet you.” The only other whole sentence he can sign is, “My name is Jared,” and that’s already been established. Hell, Ada already knows _way_ more than what Jared’s name is.

Looking over to Jensen, Jared doesn’t understand the look of pride in Jensen’s eyes.

“_____ go eat?”

“Yes, ____! ____ _____.”

“C’mon.” Another squeeze and Jensen’s arm drops to Jared’s waist. “____ eat.”

Okay. Okay. This is all incredibly confusing, and not just because Jared catches only the most basic signs. He feels discombobulated, which might have something to do with the intense orgasm he experienced not half an hour ago, but there’s more to it. Since they’ve met, Jared has understood that lip reading isn’t a superpower. Still, they’ve managed to text or write past Jared’s unfamiliarity with ASL. But what now? Jared can’t exactly pull out a piece of paper or text…

Jared slips out of Jensen’s arm and retreats back to the room.

Calm. Logical. Thoughts.

Was that a glimpse of how Jensen feels when he’s over at Jared’s house and everyone is speaking English? It was so terribly uncomfortable, but still only temporary for Jared. How does Jensen have the energy to endure this?

The least Jared can do is try.

Looking up from his backpack, it hurts when he sees disappointment in Jensen’s eyes.

“Backpack.” Jared doesn’t know the sign for it, so he points and opens it, kneeling, to pull out their latest notebook. If a forensic handwriting expert compared his handwriting in this note to previous ones, they’d probably conclude that he was drunk. In haste, his scrawl runs together. Ripping the page out—totally not a thing they do—he hands it to Jensen and stands up.

“This is _so_ not how I wanted to meet Ada, but I’m glad to meet her. You two have a lot to catch up on. Take her to the diner and treat her to dinosaur chicken nuggets. I should probably go spend some time with my mom before she gives Beth my room.”

Jensen sighs in relief and gives Jared a small, shy smile. He takes Jared’s pen and their notebook, writing just below Jared’s note. “Jay, you don’t have to go. We can all go out.”

“Hey—it’s okay. Thank you, next time. I need more practice.”

“We can practice over dinner.”

“No, you can catch up with your friend over dinner. I can go remind my mother that I am still a resident in her house. Oh! But don’t forget to do the goodie bags. Your mom will kill me.”

After a smile, Jensen rolls his eyes with almost enough sass to match Jared. “Okay. But I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you talk big. Text me later?”

“Duh, but will you reply?”

“Hmm. Guess you’ll have to see.” Jared flips the page and writes neater. “Hi, it was very nice to meet you… sorry you kind of got an eyeful. I promise I keep Jensen in line most of the time.”

The recipient laughs and accepts the pen. Ada’s handwriting is just as elegant as her signing. “Ha! I’m sure you do, but he’s a tricky bastard. And don’t apologize! I’m the one who’s sorry! I _so_ shouldn’t have barged in. Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner? Jensen can pay for us.”

“Thanks,” Jared writes back. “But I really should remind my mom I still exist. Next time?”

“Yeah! I’m in town for the summer.” She shoots a glance at Jensen. “Plenty of time to get into trouble!”

Jensen sighs dramatically and signs a halo above his head. He then adds to the sheet of paper. “It’s only trouble if we get caught. Like that time that never happened.”

“I hope you don’t listen to him,” Ada responds, shaking her head. “Even though my timing was a total bust, it was awesome meeting you, Jared! Jensen talks about three things: you, his guitar, and how much he hates his graduation suit. In that order.”

Blushing neon, Jared signs, “Thank you.”

“Let me drive you home.” Jensen grabs his wallet from his desk. He signs to Ada and she nods, onboard with dropping Jared off before they head to the diner.

In the hallway, in the car, and at Jared’s front door, Jensen firmly holds Jared’s hand.

Eye contact with Jensen alone is enough to make Jared weak in the knees.

Any need for written or verbal communication disappears the second Jensen kisses Jared. They fall into the kiss, natural and warm, unhindered by time or pressure. Jared basks in the slow melt of their lips. His mind wanders back to this pink mouth sealed around his cock, aided by the continuous twirl of an equally determined tongue.

A minute later, Jared races upstairs and locks himself in the bathroom, turning on the shower.

He ignores any and all intrusions and disruptions, including Charlie’s threat that if her bladder explodes, she’s taking everyone on their block down with her.

Jared lets her ramble on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe how long this fic has gotten. woah. i totally never intended to make it this long and look at where we are! 
> 
> hope you're all doing well! leave me comments, they are love. <3


	19. Chapter 19

Early the next morning, before anyone should ever be awake, Jared receives the first of many texts.

“She’s making me comb my hair to the side, Jay. To. The. Side.”

“Jay. You know I look like a total dork with my hair to the side.”

“Jay.”

“I’m panicking here. All of my graduation pictures are gonna have me looking like a dork.”

“Now she’s making me wear my glasses.”

“ She says they make me look more distinguished.”

“If I don’t stab someone today, I should get a prize.”

“Or some kisses from this cute boy I know.”

“I. Hate. This. Suit.”

“Remember that scene in The Birdcage where Armand stands in front of the mirror, wearing a suit, and he says, ‘I look like my grandfather’? That’s what I feel like now. Right now.”

“My grandparents are here.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning and they’re here.”

“That five minute lapse between texts? My grandfather telling me I shouldn’t have gotten a Japanese car when American cars are far superior. This is great. Just great.”

“Ada and I stayed out late catching up, so everything seems really hazy and slow.”

“She thinks you’re adorable.”

“Not sure  _ how _ she thinks that, but you know, to each their own.”

“You’re gonna kill me when you see all these texts.”

“Oh no.”

“Someone brought out my middle school yearbook.”

“Jay.”

“Save me.”

“Graduation is two and a half hours long. That’s two hours longer than I can handle.”

“You’re still coming to it, right? I mean, I know you’ll be there for Beth too, but maybe you can wave when I walk my ass across that stage?”

“Or blow me a kiss? ;)” 

“Or blow me? :D”

“Grandma: Who are you texting this early? Me: Some jerk who has the nerve to sleep while I’m facing multiple crises.”

“He’s a cute jerk, though.”

“And okay, I guess sitting through graduation won’t be the worst part of this hellish experience. At least I won’t have to hear everyone’s names get called out. :D”

“Hahaha. Deaf jokes. :P”

“If they hadn’t put a limit on tickets for this thing, my mom would’ve brought the whole family.”

“By the way, I apologize for my family in advance…”

“JENSEN.”

“...oh! Hi! You’re awake!”

“TAKE A DEEP BREATH.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder!”

“Don’t let them bury me in this suit, Jay.”

“I promise to strip your corpse of that suit and have them bury you naked. Now. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Okay…”

“...”

“Can I keep texting?”

“...yes.”

“:)”

 

At the Padalecki household, planning and executing graduation festivities have been about as stressful.

Beth went to four stores to find the perfect graduation dress, despite everyone and literally their mother telling her that the green polka dot dress at the first store looked the best. Nope. Beth had to have options. Hours and hours were spent making sure no secret, hidden dress was buried somewhere, crying out for help. Then there were other questions that seemed to multiply faster than hobbits could eat breakfast. 

What kind of shoes? Flats or heels? Flats would be more comfortable, but failed to have the sophistication of heels. But she’d be standing for two hours. But she found the cutest pair of heels the other day. And then what accessories? What earrings? What necklaces? The problem with polka dots, Jared discovered by no means of his own doing, was that it made finding appropriate accessories difficult. He stood in four different jewelry departments and acted as a human mannequin for his eldest sister. Silver? Gold? Pendants? Hoops? Vintage? Modern? Minimalist? 

The day of graduation sees no less amount of questions. 

“JAY BIRD.” 

“BETH,” Jared shouts back, trudging down the hallway, headed for Beth’s room. “WHAT IS IT?!”

“Dammit… WHERE’S… oh. Hi.” Beth stands in the middle of her room--typically neat and tidy, but currently a storm of accessories and terrible, scary things called Spanx. She has her dress on, but the back wide open. “Where’s Charlie?” 

“You called me over just to ask me that?” 

“Oh my god, can you just zip me up? We have to leave soon and I’m freaking out because mom  _ just _ told me she can’t find the digital camera and Lulu sent over a copy of this zine I want to read so I need to figure out how to carry it in my gown so I can read it during the ceremony.”

Leaning against the doorway, Jared waits for his sister to catch her breath. Willfully risking his life, he quips back, “I’m sorry, Beth. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Older sister eyes shoot him a gaze worthy of any Jedi’s lightsaber. “This is no time for Space Odyssey quotes!”

Of course, after Jared zips her dress, he’s relegated to helping her find her shoes, and then after that, assessing whether or not the zine will fit in her bra without looking lumpy. Jared ends up lending her a thigh holster from a cosplay costume he technically borrowed from Charlie to use with Jensen. 

Downstairs, their mother fares no better. She’s been planning Beth’s graduation party for a month, in between working and all the other mom things she does, with the hope that things would go smoothly. But the photo booth people called half an hour ago and were about to cancel--they were on the road an hour out, coming back from their gig last night, and the transmission died. Not about to give up on an essential part of the party, she’s making arrangements for Hal to go pick them up and tow their van. In addition to dealing with that, the caterer messed up half their order, some distant, out of state cousins called to say they’d be two hours late, and no one has told her yet about the smell in the fridge.

A whirlwind of speech and movement, Beth pauses, looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. She decided to wear her hair down because of the cap, and curled it at the ends. 

Beth has always been a force of energy in their family. And although she got Jared into plenty of trouble, she could be depended on to get him right out of it. Still. Jared knows and has known that some portion of self-confidence is often earned the hard way. The path to here and now, this moment of brief introspection, required years of effort, advocacy, and work. 

Jared wonders what he’ll feel like on graduation day. 

Thankfully, that’s a little ways off. He’s somewhat in a hurry to catch up to Jensen, but not right this minute.

“I hope,” Beth sighs, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, “I don’t trip and fall on my face.”

“You won’t,” he assures her and takes two steps back. “That’ll be your wedding day.”

 

A few gray clouds hover on the horizon, but Jared knows his mother sends them off by sheer will. She has had it with things going wrong today. The thing in the fridge has yet to be discovered, but Jared is not going to be the one to tell her about it. At least not today.

Charlie drives their party of four to the school. They leave only a few minutes later than intended, and yet still manage to arrive early enough to score excellent parking. 

“Getting out of here is gonna be a living nightmare,” Charlie grumbles. “Figures. I finally get to drive the car and it’s gotta be now.”

“You’d get to drive the car more often if you’d quit driving like a two year old,” Beth snips, flicking Charlie’s forehead. 

“Quit it!”

“Quit your face.”

“Oh, how original. You’re such a brat.”

“Older sisters are  _ never _ brats.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait until you move out and I can use your room for taxonomy.” 

“Very funny. You cry when dogs get hurt in movies.”

“Dogs never deserve to get hurt! I could give two shits about people.”

“You know, the first thing I’m buying myself as An Official Graduate is gonna be a vibrator. I want something that can break concrete. Something I can really scare people off with. And I hope it’s bright pink. Or turquoise.”

“Beth,” their mother sighs, “with what money are you purchasing this device?”

“...well, I was hoping my wonderful family would give me some cash on this momentous occasion.”

“I’ll give you five bucks,” Charlie snickers. “Some of it’s in quarters, hope you don’t mind.”

Jensen and Beth’s graduating class is smaller than the previous year’s. With about two hundred seniors, the ceremony takes place outside, in an outdoor pavilion the school rents out every year without fail. Luckily, the previous graduating class complained about the foldout chairs, so this year  _ padded _ folded chairs are being offered. Rows and rows of seats for guests and family span across the pavilion, in front of a silver stage. Everything looks very formal. Excited, eager energy radiates through the air. 

Circles of friends and family gather around their grads. Balloons are not permitted, but flowers are, so the air picks up a fragrant, fresh scent. 

Jensen pries himself away from his swarm of family members before joining the rest of his class. Today, he’s an extraordinarily handsome Armani model decked out in his cap and gown. With his hair parted to the side, he looks distinguished, not at all dorky. His freckles stand out, which may be the only dorky thing about him, and Jared, of course, eats it up.

Weary, Jensen texts slower than usual. “I thought I’d never escape my Uncle Tim. You. Just. You are a sight for sore eyes. And look at you, so fucking handsome in that suit.”

“Same can be said about you,” Jared replies, not even attempting to hide his blush. “You’re not gonna rip off your suit mid-ceremony, are you?”

Mischief sparks in Jensen’s eyes. “No… that’s  _ your _ job after.”

Questions and concerns linger on Jared’s side. Yes, he’s thrilled about the idea--and reality--of ripping the exquisitely tailored suit off of Jensen. Well. Except for maybe the tie. That can stay on. Oh no. What if Jensen doesn’t like that? What if he thinks that’s too kinky? Or what if he thinks that’s not kinky enough? But, getting back on track, can Jared show his appreciation of these thoughts in public? In plain sight of Jensen’s immediate  _ and _ extended family? And though they didn’t walk over, Jared saw Anna and Ada with Jensen’s family as guests. If Jared makes a move first, could they potentially accuse him of starting shit? What if one of Jensen’s older family members…

Jensen grabs Jared by the shoulders and plants the kiss to end all kisses on him. 

Sparks of Elvish appear in Jared’s head, along with the knee-buckling, heart pounding, fireworks that always go off whenever Jensen kisses him like this: hard, rough, and still tooth achingly sweet.

Lights near the stage flash--a signal for graduates to take their place--followed by an announcement over the loudspeakers. An overwhelmingly desire to cling to Jensen threatens commencement; Jared might not let go. Although Jared cares a great deal about Jensen graduating--with honors!--there’s no doubt that graduation means change. They won’t see each other at school every day. They won’t share the same lunch breaks. They won’t have the same schedule. What if Jensen’s schedule turns out to be the complete opposite of Jared’s? And what if community college shows Jensen an entirely new world where everyone’s older, cultured, and more mature? 

“Stop,” Jensen mouths, with a small smile after. He places a light kiss on Jared’s nose and gives a playful nudge to his cheek. 

“See you after,” Jared says, clear and without mumbling. “I’m proud of you.” 

Jensen signs thank you and hugs Jared once more, quick, before running off in his gown and cap, the dreaded suit hidden for the moment. He passes through his family, hugging his parents and grandparents on the way. Ada waves to Jared, smiling, signing, “See you later!” Unable to think of an actual response, Jared fumbles signing back, “Okay!” 

Embarrassed, Jared looks around and finds his own flock. Their mother pries Beth away from her friends and insists on a family hug. Beth resists, and argues with Charlie about the car and who gets to drive home. After a final announcement and flash of lights, Beth disappears in a whirl, her cap under her arm, blowing kisses. Once Beth reaches grad seating, Charlie leads the way through the pavilion. Jared notices their mother dabbing her eyes and hands her a tissue from his pocket. He grabbed the tissue on his way out, and when they take their seats, he’s grateful for it.

“Just my allergies,” she sniffs, accepting the tissue. “They probably just cut the grass yesterday.”

Charlie slings an arm around her. “It’s okay, mom. Just wait til you see the word on Beth’s cap.”  

Cousins and grandparents will be arriving after the ceremony. They have to rush back to the house and make final preparations. Jared made a pact with his mother last week to split his time 50/50 between Jensen’s party and Beth’s. He’ll visit Jensen’s first, where he will socialize and be as brave as Eowyn defeating the Witch King of Angmar. 

For now, Jared’s bravery focuses on watching Jensen take the next step in his journey. 

Hopefully, the King does not forget his guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for waiting! i'm slowly getting back to updating everything. <3
> 
> i love these two. i'm hoping to end this particular installment, but i think i'll make it a verse with timestamps. :D it's been wonderful writing these two. comments are love!


	20. Chapter 20

Surprisingly, there are quite a few students before Jensen. Ackles puts him at the top of the list, but there seem to be an abundance of Aa and Ab last names. Also, in an effort to appease families and students with last names at the end of the alphabet, the school decided to alternate back and forth. 

“This way we’re stuck til the bitter end,” Charlie sighs, stretching out in her seat. 

“Does Beth’s cap... “ Their mother cranes her neck, trying to see over people and students. “Oh. My. It better not say what I think it says.” Charlie receives the glare of a lifetime. 

With a deep blush and nervous laugh, Charlie waves off their mother’s concern. “Haha no, no of course not. And it’s not like I helped her come up with it or decorate it or anything. Hey, Jared, what’d you get Jensen for his graduation present?” 

“That’s not funny, Charlotte Lynn Padalecki! Don’t try to change the subject. Get over there and tell her to take it off.”

“If I do that, she’s gonna take it  _ all _ off, mom.”

“Go!” 

“B-but they’re starting--” 

“This is not over,” their mother snips. She turns to Jared, who sits on her left, and does the mom thing. Well, one of several mom things. Not one second of hesitation stands between her and licking her thumb, then promptly rubbing something--possibly coal, judging by the force she uses--off of Jared’s cheek. His squeak of protest does nothing to deter her. In fact, it encourages her to fix his hair. The world could be ending all around them and she wouldn’t let him run for cover until she finished straightening his tie. 

Jared managed to tie his own tie this morning, though Charlie started it for him. He chose a light blue button down in an effort to match Jensen, but also to aid in camouflage later. Charlie agreed with the tactic and stuck to a pale pink dress. It’s their mission to avoid interaction with as many family members as possible throughout today and the weekend. 

Lights from the stage flash again, and an announcement calls out. “Friends, family, and honored guests, please take your seats. We are ready to begin.” 

Thankfully, this is enough for their mother to forget Beth’s cap and any further attempt to groom Jared. 

The marching band plays their interesting take on the national anthem. Charlie waves to a few band members before and after the performance, cursing her short arms and at one point, tries to get Jared to wave for her. He refuses and focuses on the two ASL interpreters on stage for the graduates and on screen for the audience--a young black woman and an older white man. Jared doesn’t catch any of what they sign, except for small words like “now,” “we,” and “want.” 

Although both interpreters sign the same content, Jared notices they bring their own styles to ASL. The young woman’s motions from sign to sign have a more artistic, flowing quality to them, while her partner’s motions are quicker and seemingly more succinct. 

Their Principal and a series of teachers and staff--all of them decked out in academic robes--take the stage after the anthem. People once again sit down, and the interpreters continue working as the Principal makes opening marks, followed by someone from the Board of Trustees. Jared focuses on the interpreters more than the actual ceremony. He flinches when people start cheering for the Class Valedictorian. 

Charlie leans over. “I had such a crush on her this year,” she sighs. “But she’s straight as a gun barrel.” 

“Sorry?” Jared has lost visual on Jensen. “Ugh, I can’t see.”

“Relax, this is gonna take a while.”

“How do you know?”

“I listened to her speech last week.”

“Oh.”

“I also may or may not have made out with her and caused a minor sexual orientation crisis.” 

“You just said she’s straight.”

Smirking, Charlie tilts her chin up. “Jay-bird, you have to experiment to know either way.”

Jared contemplates Charlie’s remark for a minute. True to her word, the Valedictorian utilizes her time on stage. He would normally listen more attentively, but his thoughts turn to making out with Jensen and there’s no stopping his imagination after that. Fortunately, his imagination carries him all the way…

“Graduating with Honors, Distinction, and Academic Merit,” the Principal booms out, “Jensen Ackles.” 

Etiquette dictates that audience members remain seated for the duration of the program and to save their applause for after. 

But Jared is his mother’s son. 

“YAY!” Jared hollers, cheering and whooping as loud as his lungs will allow. “Jensen!!”

His height advantage allows him to stand above seated tall people and large hats and a few banners. And his excited clapping in ASL--motions similar to jazz hands, as Jensen had taught him--catches Jensen’s eye from the stage. 

Jensen grins, and pauses en route to the opposite side of the stage after receiving his diploma. He waves, which could be interpreted as a gesture to his family, but then he quickly signs the letter J above his heart.

Breathless, Jared takes his seat. 

His mother and Charlie take their seats too. He hadn’t realized they had also stood up to cheer, and that signals the start of incredibly happy tears. Charlie hands him a handkerchief from a pocket in her dress.

“You’re such a sap,” Charlie murmurs, and pecks a kiss to his wet cheek. “And he’s so lucky.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, i cried at the end of this chapter. 
> 
> i'm winding this fic down, but we've still got a larger scene to get through, so i'd say about three more chapters? :) 
> 
> ugh, heart squeeze! these two. leave me comments, they are love. <3 thank you for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

Family members descend upon their household in unprecedented droves. 

The first piece of wisdom imparted to Jared and Charlie from their grandmother warns them about their flashy and revealing clothing. Not thirty seconds later, she starts advising them on the evil nature of television and talk radio. She doesn’t approve of books other than The Bible and magazine selections such as Reader’s Digest either. And another thing, shouldn’t Jared have a part-time job as a paperboy or grocery store clerk to keep him out of trouble? Without a proper male role model in the house, Jared is doomed to run around wild, headed down a path of debauchery and destruction. 

“Grandma,” Jared sighs. He has walked her to the backyard, hoping to tolerate her company for more than three minutes, and has tried twice to redirect the conversation to more pleasant topics. But she refuses to change trajectory. “I spend most of my weekends reading.” Well, and making out with Jensen, but she probably wouldn’t hear him say that even if he did. 

“And that’s why,” she continues, decidedly, “you need a few weeks at a reform school for boys. They’ll get you back into shape. Make you a decent, productive citizen instead of some lollygagger at the library reading filth.” 

Joy. 

And to their right are a gaggle of cousins, who made it after all. Jared remembers these cousins. Being close in age to them has never done him any favors. 

Stations of food, non-alcoholic drinks, and desserts are set up all according to their mother’s standards. The photo booth people have arrived through some miracle of miracles, and the band, some of Beth’s friends, have proven not to be as terrible as previously thought. The ratio to family and friends remains steady at 2:1, though Jared feels it will even out as the sun sets and their more conservative family members must flock from the dangers nighttime might bring. 

Instinct pulls at Jared to run away from the noise and the people’ing and to go back inside, to his room, and make use of the lock on his door. Or. To make use of his feet and run if he has to, to another graduation party that while it may contain more people, at least has an Armani model. 

Practically lunging at his mother as she walks past, Jared tugs on the sleeve of her blouse. 

“Mother, can I please go to Jensen’s?” Begging is no longer beneath him. He is like a dwarf pleading to an elf for help--shit is real. 

His mother casts a quick glance at her mother and back at Jared. She has raised three kids on her own, working whatever hours and jobs needed to do so, and has maintained a separate sense of self than the background she came from. Even if she occasionally makes Jared participate in burlesque classes with middle aged women, or go on nude nature hikes with a spiritual circle, or leave his room, she has never made him do something that would hinder his creativity. 

“Has she threatened reform school yet?” 

“Yes. Please, can I go?” 

“Alright, shoo. But before you go, can you tell Beth that I saw her bag filled with fireworks and it’s  _ not _ happening. I’m not about to deal with that on top of everything else today.”

“I think she’s actually planning on setting them off tomorrow.”

“As long as it’s not here, tonight. Oh, wait up.” Seamlessly, she directs her mother towards Charlie, who seems as thrilled to be spotted and apprehended as Jared was. “Are you staying over at Jensen’s tonight?” 

Nerves cause Jared’s heart to leap in his chest. He bites his lip and avoids eye contact, and tries to control the blush over his face. “I’m… not sure?” 

Gentle hands settle on Jared’s shoulders. Eyes like his own look back at him. 

“Do we need to go over the rules of safe sex again?”

“Mother!”

“I have the pumpkin ready.”

“No!”

“Then don’t worry about tonight.” She nudges his chin. “If you want to stay over, stay over. If staying over means the two of you have sex, just remember that consent is more than yes.”

“Yeah, but… I can’t believe we’re talking about this now.”

“Everyone has sex, honey. I’m going to throw condoms at some of these party guests later.”

“Oh god.”

“There is no god,” his mother cackles, “only the safe sex pumpkin.”

Jared moves to escape before he can be roped into participating in any of this mother’s schemes. She pulls him back, and in one swift motion, smacks a kiss onto his cheek and hugs him tight. With a clap on his back, she sends him on his way. 

“Don’t forget Jensen’s graduation present from us!”

“Huh?” 

“I left it on the counter. You’re welcome!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are love! <3


	22. Chapter 22

To build confidence, Jared tries to tell himself he has the ability to turn into a fifty foot giant and crush everything in his path. 

Wait.

That might not be the right angle to approach this from. 

Jared alternates between taking his time and excitedly walking over to Jensen’s. He should have asked Charlie for a ride, but the exercise provides an outlet for all his nervous energy. The safe sex pumpkin lingers in the back of his mind, shoved to the background by some new topics his anxiety has chosen to fixate on. About three fourths of Jensen’s extended family are Deaf, and the rest are either hearing or hard of hearing. Jared knows that Jensen’s cousin Adelaide, who is about Jared’s age, has hearing aids and enjoys wearing purple. If he doesn’t spot Ada or Jensen right away, at least Jared knows one person. He might not actually know Adelaide, but the detail helps. 

Trying to keep himself from sweating through his clothes, Jared practices some sign language. He forms a sentence: I like books. Simplistic as this sentence may be, it gives him something to work off of. I like books. I like reading books. Reading is a fun sign--with his right hand, fingers pointer and middle finger shaped as a V, he waves up and down over the palm of his left. Reading. I like reading books. 

My name is Jared. 

I am Jensen’s boyfriend. Except, in ASL, that’s not exactly what he’s saying. The grammatical structure of ASL is different than English. Signing, “My name is Jared,” is like saying, “My name Jared.” Signing, “I am Jensen’s boyfriend” is like saying, “I Jensen’s boyfriend.” 

Thank you. 

Cool.

I like reading books.

I am hearing. 

Yes. No. Same. 

My name is Jared.

Thank you. 

By the time he gets around to signing one of the longest sentences he knows--my family is my mom and two sisters--he arrives. 

Cars line the street and the Ackles’ driveway. Balloons and streamers in their school colors have been tied to everything and anything that will stay still. Jared even spots a sign on the front lawn signifying that an individual named Jensen has graduated high school. Per the instructions given to him a few days ago, Jared walks around to the backyard.

With Jensen being their only child, the Ackles have gone all out for his graduation party. 

If Jared wasn’t dating the honored graduate, he might have tried crashing this particular celebration. There isn’t a table with food--there’s a chef making personalized omelets and frittatas. And if eggs aren’t desired, the Ackles have made sure to offer a variety of food on three large tables, complete with servers standing by. A few servers also make their way around with platters and trays. Jared eyes a platter with pigs in a blanket, but quickly gets distracted by the chef flipping an omelet without using a spatula. 

Food takes up the left side of the Ackles’ backyard, with a full-service bar at the end of the buffet line, also staffed. Two bartenders sling drinks, putting on a small show at the same time. 

A white tent in the center of the lawn provides ample shade for folks. Tables have been set up with white linens and flowers to match their school colors. Lanterns and lights line the border of the tent and the fencing. And last, but not least, a dance floor awaits on the right, complete with a DJ and its own tent. No detail was too small to escape Mr. and Mrs. Ackles’ notice. Even the two trees in their backyard have been decked with school colors, balloons, flowers, and photographs of Jensen throughout high school. Napkins on the tables have tiny grad cap napkin rings. 

Slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people and the scale of the party, Jared desperately searches for a familiar face. Any familiar face. 

His eyes land on… Anna. 

Okay, maybe not that familiar face. 

Before he can locate the graduate, Ada, or Adelaide, Jensen’s mother spots him. Jared freezes in place. Crap. Why can’t someone swoop in and plop ASL in its entirety into his head?

“Hello,” Donna signs, with a smile that Jared interprets as nonthreatening. Maybe it helps that he’s not actively making out with Jensen at the moment. They aren’t enemies. But she hasn’t exactly invited Jared over for dinner or offered him anything to eat or drink while he’s been at her house. Then again, maybe that’s just how some people are. Not everyone has to be like his family--outgoing, loud, and often annoyingly pushy. 

“Hi,” Jared signs back, his right hand shaking just a bit. “How are you?” 

She signs something in return that Jared thinks is, “Tired,” but he’s not entirely sure. She could be telling him that the kitchen is on fire and all of the napkin rings have suddenly gone missing. Her facial expression would probably reflect something grave, but then again, Jared doesn’t really know her that well. It’s fair to say that she might look the same while talking about a natural disaster or commenting on the weather. 

Surprisingly, Donna helps him out. Her hands move slower and she chooses more simple signs. He interprets this as, “Help yourself to food and something to drink.” She stands on her tip-toes for a moment and scans the crowd of people, then points to Jensen, currently standing in the center of a larger group near the omelet station. 

“Thank you,” Jared signs. He takes a card out from his back pocket and holds it out for Donna. “Where…?” 

She smiles and signs back a thank you, and points over to a table near the bar. Jared drops off the card first, before he forgets, and heads over to Jensen. Cousins of all ages are here today--from very small toddlers to cousins who look like they’ve already graduated college. For now, it seems like Jensen’s aunts and uncles are taking turns clapping him on the back and pinching his cheeks. He looks as thrilled as Jared expected. 

“Jay!” Jensen interrupts a thank you to sign Jared’s sign name. Every Deaf person has a sign name, a quick way to identify someone in sign. It means a great deal for a Deaf person to give one to a hearing person. And this sign name--a J over Jensen’s heart--makes Jared’s knees utterly weak. 

Jared attempts to sign hello, but Jensen hugs a squeak out of him. 

Right after, their eyes meet for a moment. Jared doesn’t try to hide his blush or his smile. He’s so damn proud, the whole of Middle Earth might as well know it. Pride makes him bold; he reaches up and cups the right side of Jensen’s face with his hand. Jensen leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a second, then turning to kiss the palm of Jared’s hand. 

And then it starts.

A whirlwind of introductions in ASL and English, handshakes, hugs, his own cheek pinches, and one or two scruffs of his hair. The Ackles family and friends turn out to be a formidable force of friendliness and hospitality. Language barriers do not prevent two of Jensen’s aunts pushing plates into Jared and Jensen’s hands and all but shoving them towards the buffet line. With this kind of enthusiasm, someone might think that Jared hasn’t eaten in weeks. 

The spread of food awes Jared’s teenage ability to eat the contents of an entire fridge ten minutes after his mother has put away groceries for the week. He gets an omelet with  _ four _ kinds of cheese, a hot dog, a burger, pigs in a blanket, mini quiches, bacon wrapped shrimp, and the holiest of all party foods: potato skins. At the bar, he manages to ask for a cherry Coke. The bartender doesn’t merely hand him a can; she presents Jared with a glass of Coke containing the perfect ratio of cherry syrup and three maraschino cherries on a tiny skewer.

Jared takes out his phone and hurriedly texts Jensen before they dig in. “Being the only child is awesome!”

Jensen rolls his eyes and makes a face. He texts with one hand while taking a swig from a bottle of water. “You have no idea how HAPPY I am to see you. I was getting mauled out there.”

“They’re so… nice!” 

“Yeah, so nice it hurts! I think I have bruises on my face!”

“Aww, I wanna pinch those cheeks too! C’mere.”

“Oh hell no. But… you can pinch some  _ other  _ cheeks later. ;)” 

“We’ll see about that. I may be in a food coma.” 

Phones down, the feast begins. Relatives wander by, again with congratulations and affection. Even Jared receives a few shoulder pats and thumbs ups, especially whenever Jensen signs, “My boyfriend, Jay.” Thankfully, because they are eating, and because others are also sitting down at their own tables, Jared doesn’t have to sign much more than, “Thank you,” or “Nice to meet you.” With the pressure of communicating in either ASL or English off of him for the moment, he sneaks a few tater tots from Jensen’s plate. 

Anna sits down at their table, right next to Jensen.

Jared tries not to choke on his confiscated tater tots. He reaches for his wondrous cherry Coke and takes a long sip. Jensen acknowledges Anna with an inviting smile, but returns to his plate and picks up his phone.

“How was Beth’s party?” 

“Uhh… my grandmother told me I should go to reform school.”

“You? You, Jared Padalecki?” 

“I guess I’m a hooligan.”

“So,” Anna blurts out, “I see you haven’t bothered to learn any ASL.” 

This isn’t true and Jared knows it. Jared knows Jensen knows it. He might not be able to say more than basic phrases and sentences--or to be able to tell people anything more than he likes to read books--but he’s made a tangible effort. Not that that’s anyone’s business but his and Jensen’s. 

A text from Jensen pings through on his phone. Jared takes a moment to address Anna before reading and responding to it. He puts his phone down and signals Jensen to look up. As he speaks, he looks at Anna eye to eye. “I’m still learning, thank you,” Jared replies, his voice steady. “But if that’s your offer to teach me, I have to decline. I’m starting a college course this summer.” 

Anna’s eyes narrow. 

“Thanks anyway,” Jared chirps. 

He can tell that Anna isn’t done by far; one quick remark won’t fend her off completely. And she’s totally unbothered about talking in English around Jensen, about Jensen’s boyfriend. Jared sees it for the low blow that it is, but understands that his reactions must be tempered with patience. This isn’t the time or place to argue with Ana. Not that she understands that.

Jensen turns to face Ana. He speaks before she can start again--in English, out loud. “I’m Deaf, not stupid.” Jensen’s voice sounds hardened. “Are you done?” 

Anna tries replying in ASL, her hands fluttering. Jensen puts his hand up to signal for her to stop. 

“No,” he presses, “say it like you said it to Jay. In English.”

“How can you date someone who doesn’t sign?” Ana’s tone softens for Jensen. “You know most hearing and Deaf relationships never make it. He doesn’t know anything about Deaf culture or what you need or how to help you.” 

“Ana.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “You aren’t Deaf. I am.”

Jared doesn’t know Anna well enough to determine if Jensen’s message has truly sunk in. But judging by her posture, body language, and facial expression, Jared thinks she’s starting to get it. Maybe just a little. Instead of continuing to argue, Anna nods, looks away, and excuses herself from the table. Jensen moves to get up and follow, but a newcomer to their table places a hand on his shoulder. 

Ada takes her sister’s seat. She signs something quick to Jensen, pats his hand, and turns to Jared. She picks up Jensen’s phone and starts texting. 

“I’m so sorry about my sister.” Once she sees that Jared has read the text, she reaches over and gives Jared’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Jensen is a very important person in my life, and I’m so happy to see him happy with you. :)” 

“Thank you,” Jared signs. “Learning… ASL… is hard.” He switches to text, “But very much worth it.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Her thumbs move as fast as Jensen’s. “Especially since you already know a chunk of it, and you’ll have a good teacher.” She elbows Jensen, who pauses in his inhalation of food to give a crooked, messy smile. Ada sighs--her expression says it all. “Well, anyway, I can always help you out over the summer. I’ll be around and we should hang out! Jensen told me you love sci-fi. Have you ever read  _ Kindred _ ?” 

“I do and I haven’t.” 

“You need to! Octavia Butler will rock your world. I have a copy. Maybe the three of us can have lunch next week?” 

While texting Ada about feminist sci-fi and fantasy literature, greeting various relatives and other friends from Jensen’s graduating class, two hours fly by. Jensen leaves a few times to work the circuit, but Jared doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Maybe he would if he were alone, but Ada, and later Adelaide, never let him feel like an outsider. They teach him a few more signs to make introductions a little smoother and to understand more of what is being signed to and around him. Adelaide switches back and forth between English and ASL with so much ease, Jared asks her how she does it. 

The DJ starts his set just then. Adelaide searches her lavender colored purse for a minute and hands Jared a pair of ear plugs. 

“You’ll need these,” she shouts, laughing and waving Ada off. “Most of these folks are Deaf, so the music’s about to get  _ really _ loud!” 

“What about you?!”

“Oh, please.” Adelaide points to her hearing aids. “Flip of a switch!”

“Wow!” Jared shudders at the blast of ABBA from the dance floor and pops in the blessed ear plugs. “You weren’t kidding!” 

“What?!”

“Huh?!” 

Adelaide laughs and shrugs. She signs something Jared doesn’t understand, and then takes the time to finger spell it out. “P-R-A-C-T-I-C-E.” Again, she makes the sign for it, and mouths it, so that Jared understands the sign. She puts it together in a sentence and signs, “You learn with practice.” 

After Jared repeats the sign a few times, she takes his hand and leads him towards the already crowded dance floor. Any kind of protest is futile--Adelaide’s grip is stronger than Beth’s or Charlie’s. Only one person can get her to relinquish her hold.

“Jen,” Jared says, relief heavy in his voice and facial expression. “Help me.” 

Sweeping into action, Jensen taps Adelaide on her shoulder and bows, cutting in as smooth as a hot knife through butter. He’s managed to escape both his family and the dreaded suit for the moment, clothed now in a comfortable pair of cargo shorts and a Zeppelin shirt. With the sun beginning to set, the lanterns switch on, providing a captivating view from the dance floor. 

If the rest of the evening involves dancing to ABBA with Jensen, Jared’s all set. But as pretty as the lanterns are, Jared’s focus shifts to his rescuer, currently lip-syncing “Dancing Queen.” 

And damn, Jensen can dance. He can jive. He’s having the time of his life. 

“See that girl.” Jensen lip-syncs without missing a beat. He reaches out, twirls Jared around once, and smacks a kiss right on his lips. “Digging the Dancing Queen…” 

Jared could make plenty of observations about the party, the people, and the atmosphere. But he tosses it all to the wind and decides to show Jensen the perks of having a mother who played ABBA every Saturday morning as a means of waking up her three children and having them clean. While Jared may have spent his entire childhood scrubbing floors and tubs to this music, he can, at the very least, do ABBA justice. 

“Mamma Mia!” Jared shouts, hands in the air. “Here I go again!” 

This might not be his room, his bed, his comfort zone. 

But it’s a pretty good place to be all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! two chapters up today! :D 
> 
> i really struggled with the ending on this chapter. please let me know if it works or doesn't. my betas will tell you i agonized for hours. T_T
> 
> i have also been on an ABBA kick lately... but also the A*Teens. anyone remember them? oh, my heart.


	23. Chapter 23

Jensen’s family proves to be all about celebrating and partying hard. 

Somehow, Jared and Jensen make it to Jensen’s room at around two in the morning. They exchange a few sloppy, tired kisses, intend to do a little more, and promptly fall asleep. 

Jared takes pleasure in many things in the seconds before passing out into a deep sleep: the scent of Jensen all around him, for one, the comfortable support of the mattress, a chance to stretch out, and, last but not least, the incredible sight of the mattress’ owner right next to him. They might as well be in the King’s bedchamber, having arrived after a long, but bountiful hunt. In that case, the smell of roasted meats and ancient woods would still be upon them. And while hunting is a sport they both enjoy, there is still nothing like the comforts and privileges of a clean, warm bed. 

Jared drifts off like this--living in two places at once, with a singular person beside him at all times.

 

“Hey.”

“No, Jen.”

“Jaaaaaay. :)”

“No.”

“Wakey wakey.”

“D:<” 

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“Jen--why do you wake up so early when you don’t have to? And why do you have to wake me up too???” 

“I’m excited this time!” 

“Go back to sleep.”

“You wanna learn the sign for that?”

“It’s not even nine.”

“Well, up and at ‘em!”

“Ten more minutes.”

“Early bird gets the worm!”

“I don’t want a worm, I want sleep.”

“Jay.”

“No.”

“If we hurry, we can sneak into the bathroom together and I’ll blow you in the shower.”

“...promise?”

“Would I ever skimp out on a promise to blow you? I think not.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“I’ll let you come all over my face.”

No one has ever rolled out of bed faster than Jared in this moment. 

 

_ “Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward-reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tomb of kings doom approaches. The Dead awake; for the hour is come for the Oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erech, they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.” _

Jensen keeps his promise. 

In the shower, Jared comes all over Jensen’s face. Need drives him. And he almost passes out from the sight of his come dripping from plump, pink lips and strung across freckles. Combined with the press of steam from the water, Jensen’s hands groping his ass, and the rush of relief after orgasm--Jared passes through the Door to the Paths of Jensen’s Room ten minutes later without so much a clue about what’s going on. He can remember snippets of Tolkien right after being blown, but not his name, age, or present location. 

Thankfully, Jensen allows some time for Jared to lie in bed, staring blissfully up at the ceiling with what must be an expression of wonder on his face. 

What? Who? Where? When? Why?

Jared manages to tilt his head to the left. Under half-lidded eyes he watches the Heir, his King, prepare for the day. No prophecy could have foretold the firm curves to Jensen’s body. Or the bravery in his spirit. It isn’t any man that gets up even after the spears have splintered, the blades broken, and the line shattered to pieces. 

“Jay-love.” Letter J over the heart. “You’re handsome.” 

“Thank you,” Jared signs back, looking up at Jensen. He smiles and accepts the upside down kiss. Jensen’s nose bumps against Jared’s chin and their teeth clink for more than a second. None of these things stop them. Little by little, Jared opens up to Jensen, allowing for a sweep of their tongues and two excited gasps. The physics of this hardly matters; what matters is how to press their lips closer, harder--enough to quench the possessive clawing in their chests. 

A flicker of blue light crashes and ruins their moment. 

Not wanting a repeat of The Ada Incident, Jared ducks under Jensen’s covers and Jensen scrambles to barricade the door before anyone can waltz right on in. 

Thankfully, no one tries to open the door. The flash of lights were only a warning. Jared peeks out from the mess of blankets and sheets, amused by the blush across Jensen’s face and the obvious bulge in his jeans. Now there’s a sight that could carry Jared contentedly to the next life, were it his last on this earth. Jared opens up a corner of the blankets and makes space for Jensen on the bed. 

Jensen accepts the invitation without a hint of hesitation or second thought. He slips in and picks up where they left off--a tantalizing place reminiscent of their time in the shower not long ago. They were warm, wet, and slippery against each other. 

Moaning quietly, Jared palms Jensen’s jeans, Friction from denim against skin causes them both to shudder and shiver. Heat builds underneath these covers and between fingertips and hips. 

Effortless. Exciting. 

Lights flash again. And this time, Jared hears a firm knock on the door. 

“Later,” Jensen mouths, running his hand through Jared’s hair. 

“You promise?” Jared speaks, sure to avoid mumbling. 

In response, Jensen bumps their noses together and nods. He then nips Jared’s bottom lip, which gets them started all over again. It’s his own fault that they stumble downstairs fifteen minutes later, after two more warnings and several texts. 

While Jared doesn’t need a turtleneck to hide what exactly they were up to, looser jeans than the ones he keeps at Jensen’s would be nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! updates! two in a row for y'all. <3 
> 
> i'm officially winding down this fic. not much more to go! comments are love, thank you for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

Saturday flies by faster than a Nazgul. 

After breakfast with twelve members of Jensen’s extended family, then a trip to a botanical garden, followed by a walk around the mall with the cousins and Ada, everyone retreats to the Ackles’ backyard for dinner. No one has to worry about the leftovers from the day before; Jensen’s cousins make short work of them. To avoid cooking, the Ackles order about ten pizzas and a generous spread of appetizers. 

Settled on the lawn, atop a blue blanket, Jared waits to dig into his plate and texts his mother. While he’s at it, he replies to Charlie’s text that no, he hasn’t seen their lucky Joan Jett Zippo, and he wants nothing to do with their attempt at fireworks. She texts back instantly, but only with a row of fire emojis. His mother replies, texting back that she managed to get rid of the relatives, his sisters, and their friends. The combined forces of Beth and Charlie are now the world’s problem, not hers. She mentions that if Jared needs a ride home from Jensen’s, he needs to let her know within the hour. A bottle of wine is calling her name, luring her to it because for the first time in a month she has the house to herself. 

Wine bottle emojis flood his phone three seconds later. 

Shaking his head, Jared responds, “Thank you, but I’ll probably stay over again. Don’t forget to leave a glass of water and Advil on your nightstand for tomorrow morning.”

Three shocked emojis pop up. “How do you know that???”

“Mother, I watch movies.”

“Uh huh. They’re not serving you alcohol are they? And if they are, can I swing by?”

“Grandma was that bad? :( Sorry. And no! I’m drinking a Coke!” 

“She outdid herself today. I’ve earned this bottle. And I’m gonna watch a little Colin Firth in a minute.” 

“Ooookay…” 

“:D :D :D” 

Jared sets his phone down, slightly amused by the image of his mother sprawled out on their living room couch in her pajamas, a bottle of wine in one hand and the remote in another. She’ll probably put on Bridget Jones’ Diary, which he used to watch with her, until he realized the Colin Firth was in more movies. He managed to haul over two plates piled with pizza and fried zucchini, plus a can of Coke and a small mountain of napkins. Two bites in, and Adelaide joins him. Ada follows two minutes later. 

Their conversation starts off a little shaky, a little slow. 

However, once Jared picks up a few new signs--”college,” “years,” “now”--they figure out a system of communication. Occasionally, they text back and forth, especially when Adelaide takes a minute to eat, but that doesn’t interrupt their flow. 

While Jensen spends some time with his relatives, Jared tries on Adelaide’s hearing aids at her insistence, tells Ada all of his feels about Peter Jackson and his terrible take on The Hobbit, and learns important phrases in ASL such as, “Nice to fuck you,” and “I will hide the body.” A few cousins try to get together a game of badminton, but Adelaide shoos them away. An hour and a half shimmies past as their trio stretches out on the blanket. They exchange stories, book recommendations, and musical quotes. Using Adelaide’s phone, they even watch a few cat videos, including one of kittens recreating famous horror movies. 

The lanterns switch on. 

Everything retains a soft, ivory glow. 

Jared takes the opportunity to ask for a favor. 

 

Solitude used to suit Jared. 

He preferred to spend his time after school or on the weekends in his own company. If he had to, he would tolerate family activities--to an extent. That weekend that Beth and Charlie wanted to go pet sting rays at the zoo two hours away remains one that Jared would rather forget. Jared detests zoos for their treatment of animals and crowds of screaming children and tired parents. He also refuses to pay twenty-five dollars for a sea otter plushie at the gift shop. It’s not like the actual sea otters in the zoo would see any of that money. 

Worlds within literature suited him. With the turn of a page he found himself battling dragons, or on a forced evacuation of Earth to escape its collision with another planet. Battling superhumans with supernormal abilities, taking in post-apocalyptic scenes of rebuilding Earth, or struggling to survive the Martian invasion of Earth--Jared wanted to be there without fail. There were some that were more challenging, like Le Guin’s  _ The Left Hand of Darkness _ , but Jared dedicated himself to pushing through. 

It wasn’t until those obnoxious pink signs plastered over his locker that he questioned his time alone.

He didn’t question how he spent his time--nothing and no one would have him give up the escape offered by sci-fi, fantasy, or musicals--but a glimpse of what could be enticed him to take a peek at the rest of the world he actually occupied. 

Someone somewhere had to enjoy breaking down the cinematography of  _ The Lord of the Rings _ movie trilogy or discussing the impact of  _ 1984 _ on modern day society. Someone had to be content with curling up and watching movies, occasionally getting up to make a cup of tea. 

Jared just never thought that someone would be the Armani model who wandered off a photo shoot to share a bench in front of the high school. 

And he never thought that the first book he’d discuss with this someone wouldn’t be sci-fi at all. 

Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents leave on Sunday. Adelaide hugs Jared tight and reminds him about their plan to meet up during the summer. Ada texts Jared on Sunday morning to see if him and Jensen are free Wednesday afternoon for lunch at the diner. The weekend winds down quick. Jared is the last to leave late Sunday afternoon. He doesn’t want to leave, but figures he should give Jensen some quality time with his parents before the week starts. And unlike Jensen, Jared still has a week left of school, not that they’ll be doing anything of note in class for the remainder of their time. 

“I’ll pick you up every day,” Jensen promises as they text in Jared’s driveway. “Three o’clock sharp, I promise.” 

“Hmm. I don’t see you offering to take me to school. :P”

“I’m only human, Jay. I wanna sleep in.”

“I see. So you don’t care for me at all.”

“If caring for you means getting up at six thirty in the morning to take you to school… then yep, guess I don’t.” 

“Jen!”

“LOL. Guess you’re SOL.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious. I’ll be here tomorrow morning bright and early--if that’s what you want.”

“...no. Charlie’s driving this week. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your personal time with your bed.”

“I need my beauty sleep. Not all of us are as naturally adorable as you.”

“You think I’m adorable?”

“Jay.”

“What?”

“Have you been paying attention at all?”

For the next fifteen minutes, Jared feigns ignorance. He needs to be reminded. Making out in Jensen’s car never ceases to excite him. That is until the front door to the house opens and Jared’s mother stands in the doorway, waving her phone. 

A text pings through to both their phones. “Jared! Either invite Jensen inside or let the poor boy go home!” 

At least this time there are no wine bottle emojis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continuing on! comments are love. <3


	25. Chapter 25

Not all sign language is the same. 

American Sign Language differs from British Sign Language which differs from French Sign Language which differs from Spanish Sign Language. Although there are some similarities across the board, there are still regional dialects to consider. West Coast ASL and East Coast ASL and Midwestern ASL and Southern ASL--it can all be tricky to navigate. Since going to college, Ada picked up more West Coast ASL, which Jensen finds amusing, if a bit tough to understand at first. Certain signs are backwards, like the sign for Deaf, which combines two motions. Jensen signs Deaf by tapping his ear with his pointer finger, then in one smooth motion, tapping his chin. Ada now signs it the opposite--tapping her chin first, then her ear. 

ASL has more in common with French Sign Language because it was derived from FSL. BSL is much more difficult to master because it uses a two-hand alphabet system. 

Of course all of this depends on the individual signer, teacher, or interpreter. No two people sign exactly the same in any variation of sign language. Jensen’s signs often have a hint of humor to them, while Ada prefers adding more adjectives and description. While they sign at a similar pace, that’s partly due to years of friendship. They understand their own pacing, pauses, and expressions. However, meeting anyone new and signing to them, no matter how fluent either party, requires adjustment and a quick study. There are nine different ways to sign “hospital,” and about seven for “picnic.” 

Combine these regional and international differences with the complexity of Deaf culture, the grammatical structure of sign language, and the utilization of expressions, space, and movement to convey information… and anyone can realize that sign language is not something learned after a day or two of watching YouTube videos. 

Sign language isn’t miming. And ASL isn’t like another language; it  _ is  _ its own language. 

One of the very basics steps to learning ASL is to tackle the alphabet. Fingerspelling--spelling out each word--is not sign language. It’s used to spell out nouns or signs that might differ due from region to region. There is a sign for Starbucks, but since there are variations on it, it might just be easier to fingerspell Starbucks. However, no one fingerspells entire sentences. 

Jared can sign the alphabet forward and backward in just under a minute. 

That is the very basic foundation. 

He works with Ada over Facetime or in person throughout the week. They meet in secret, though nothing can prevent Beth and Charlie from barging in and making a huge deal over his new friend. Nothing can stop Jared’s mother from falling in love with Ada, who is as polite, sweet, and thoughtful as Jensen. And next to nothing can make a giant crater open up underneath Jared to swallow him whole while Jared’s mother tells Ada, through text, the story of that time when Jared was two years old and sat, completely naked, in a pan of paint while she had been painting the living room. 

“There were blue butt cheeks all over the floor,” one of the texts reads, followed by several heart eyes emojis. “I tried to get him to recreate a picture of it last year but he’s too cool for that now.” 

Away from his family--far, far, far away--Jared, Jensen, and Ada hang out. Occasionally, Ada and Jared take turns sharing Jensen, but for the most part, three doesn’t feel like a crowd. It’s refreshing to include Ada in their movie marathons and walks around the block. She even buys a new notebook just for the three of them to pass around while they lounge in Jensen’s room. 

Adelaide joins them on Friday, before she spends the weekend with Ada and Anna. Despite a few invitations extended her way, Anna has declined any activity where Jared is present. 

Surprisingly, Jared doesn’t mind that. He would rather avoid the awkwardness and hang out with people he actually likes--and who actually like him back. On his last day of freshman year, he supposes that he’s finished the school year smarter and slightly wiser. He still fears the safe sex pumpkin, but there’s hope that he might fear it less by the time he’s thirty. 

Signing becomes easier with practice--repetition and real time usage. 

However.

Neither ASL nor English are the end all forms of communication.

Jensen drives a Honda CRV. He can fit everything necessary for a camping trip inside the trunk: his LL Bean Eureka tent, extra stakes, a tool box, two twin XL air mattresses, two pillows and blankets, an extra blanket, an air pump, a duffle bag filled with cooking utensils like two thermoses, matches, and plates, various personal items, and two cans of bug spray. Plus--one bag that Jared is absolutely forbidden to look inside. 

The drive up to Fine Point Lake takes a solid two hours without traffic. With Jared beside Jensen in the CRV, the drive actually takes three hours. They stop for gas and buy as much junk food as they can carry, then ten minutes later, decide to pull over at an empty rest stop to snack and make out on a picnic table. With the CRV between them and the highway, their hands wander freely, and their lips dip further south. Jensen sits on the bench and pulls Jared down to meet him for kisses that start out as sweet and light as the sunshine around them. 

Those kisses soon increase in fervor, becoming heated, rough, and arousingly desperate. Jensen clings to Jared’s shirt, fisting a handful of fabric by the collar. Jared shudders and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. The second Jensen moves his hands down to Jared’s ass, Jared’s cock twitches in excitement. 

Rest stops hardly stay vacant for long. 

Frustrated, eager, and wound up, they dart back into the CRV and continue their journey in hopes of finding solitude in the forest. 

This invitation to go camping means more than three days in the wilderness. 

Jared officially finished school on Friday morning. He survived his freshman year of high school and acquired a boyfriend along the way--someone who makes being invisible seem like a distant desire. He’s still the same introverted nerd he always was and always will be. The silence in his life has been filled with something much greater--unexpected, but entirely welcome. 

Someone to walk the woods of Lothlorien, their footsteps steady and true. He can follow the King underneath the permanent, golden canopy of mallorn trees. Through narrow, elegant paths and past regal yellow flowers, they make their way. Their steps are light. Their mood bright. The business of kings and kingdoms does not follow them here. Peril and interruptions alike remain at bay. And although Jared never yields his watch over the King, he breathes easier in these woods. 

These three days are theirs and theirs alone. 

This time together, privacy guaranteed, will outlast the most valuable dwarvish gold or elvish sword. 

A peaceful, tranquil parcel of land issues an invitation. Already, a fire pit awaits them, complete with logs around it to pass the evenings. Setting down their belongings, Jensen takes Jared’s hand in his. Not a trace of question or hesitance flows through Jared’s veins. He follows. As he pledged to follow. Their campsite is only the beginning. 

Guided down a sloping valley, Jensen brings Jared to the top of a hill. Jared leans into Jensen.

Breaking from a line of trees, the landscape unfolds to reveal a great river. 

Changed from when they started, here they stand, together, light upon the land.


	26. Chapter 26

Small, everyday deeds of ordinary folk keep darkness at bay--small acts of kindness and love. Or so a wizard once said. 

Their first day involves setup. The tent must be assembled, the fire pit cleaned and rebuilt, and their provisions carefully unpacked. Emergency gear stays sealed in a waterproof, fireproof, bright orange duffle; flashlights, first aid kits, matches, flares, candles, whistles, and a pocket knife rest secure inside.

Not a word of English materializes between them. The signs Jared doesn’t know, Jensen fingerspells, demonstrates, and demonstrates again. Jared fingerspells, signs, and signs again, until he feels confident enough to move onto another. Jensen gently corrects Jared’s mistakes. Patiently, he constructs simple sentences, examples, slowing down his hands and maintaining eye contact. He reaches out and guides Jared’s hand to complete the motion for the sign, “never.” 

Jared makes an effort to sign while there is sunlight. 

“You want to eat?” 

“Yeah,” Jensen signs back. “I will ____ a ____.” 

“Again?” 

“I will _____ a _____.” 

“Sorry. Again? ____?” 

“B-u-i-l-d. Build.” 

“B-u-i-l-d. Build. Build.” 

“Build a f-i-r-e. Fire.”

“F-i-r-e. Fire.”

“Build a fire.” 

“You will build a fire. C-a-n I h-e-l-p?” 

“C-a-n can. H-e-l-p help. Yes, you can help.” 

“Can help. Thank you.” 

“You’re so cute, Jay.”

“I know!” 

Since Jensen takes the time and effort to teach ASL, Jared cooks their meal after they build a fire. He makes them two grilled cheese sandwiches each, tomato soup, and hot chocolate. For June, the weather feels more like April. Their legs tangle together as they sit on logs near the fire, which Jensen puts out once they’ve finished. 

At sunset, Jensen signs, “Close your eyes.” 

Jared gives him a look, but ultimately does as requested. He fidgets in place, still seated on a log, and debates how terrible it would be if he snuck a peek. Ultimately, honor wins, but only by a slight margin. The wait is unbearable. How will he survive? What if Jensen has run off to play a frightening version of hide and seek throughout the forest? What if Beth and Charlie leap out from behind some trees screaming, “SURPRISE!”? What if his mother rushes them all bananas covered in condoms? 

A tap on Jared’s shoulder narrowly prevents a full-blown panic attack. 

His eyes open to witness a scene previously crafted only in his dreams: a trail of candlelight leading to their tent. 

Jensen saved all of the LED candles from his graduation party to create a path of light for Jared. 

Not even a balrog could keep Jared from dashing towards the tent and Jensen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winding down! :D please leave comments, they really make my day and keep me writing. <3


	27. Chapter 27

This is it.

No more interruptions. No more parents, sisters, friends, tourists--just let a bear try to wander through their campsite. Not that there are bears here, but  _ still _ . 

Jared kisses Jensen the way the river rises during a storm. They push for higher ground. Chest to chest, his hands gripping Jensen’s shirt, Jared tries to kiss the hell out of Jensen. Wicked, crushing, bruising--Jared advances, fire in his moans and an unquenchable thirst for Jensen in his mouth. Nothing to do. Nothing to do but get closer. 

The tent urges them to keep close, legs entwined, deep in each other. 

Freedom and guaranteed privacy makes Jared bold. His hands roam, grateful and appreciative of the denim landscape before them. Firm, shapely muscles meet his fingertips. And while he’s groping Jensen’s ass, Jensen grinds their hips together. Jared touches Jensen as bravely as striding into new territories. None of the four quarters--North, South, East, and West--escape his attention, though South begins to command its authority. 

Outlines of branches from aged trees tease over the arch of their tent. Kisses turn wispy as Jared tilts his hips, legs opening and curling up towards his chest. The tent in Jensen’s jeans grinds in a lower place on Jared’s hips. Moans from both of them push against the golden walls of their shelter. 

In a speed specific to teenagers, Jared and Jensen possess the ability to clothe and unclothe each other in a matter of seconds. Fortunately, it being a warm day, there isn’t much to wrangle off. Heat from anticipation rises in Jared’s face, rushing across the bridge of his nose. Is he nervous? Yes. Is he curious? Of course. Is he ready? Heart, brain, and cock scream a simultaneous, “Yes!” 

On his back, underneath Jensen, Jared decides to unzip Jensen’s jeans first. He can’t wait for any other article of clothing. Both button and zipper gleam teasingly, and as Jared’s fingers brush against the belt loops--locked, on target--he glances up. 

Concern rises to an extraordinary height. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Jared blurts out. His hands flock to frame Jensen’s jaw line, though concern causes them to lose their steadiness. 

Jensen looks away, biting his lower lip, tension clear in his shoulders. He sits up and straddles Jared’s thighs. Despite their incredibly obvious--and in Jared’s case, aching--erections, Jared pays attention. 

After a moment of silence, Jared tugs on the hem of Jensen’s shirt. “Tell me,” he says, clear and slow enough to lip read. “Please.” 

Right hand on his left arm, Jensen sighs. He starts to sign something, then shakes his head and shrugs as if to say, “Forget about it.” 

Kings must be wise. Strong. Capable. 

But sometimes, they can be incredibly stupid. 

Jared wriggles out from underneath Jensen. Slightly awkward in his movements, he crawls over to Jensen’s duffle bag. This is not the zipper he was hoping to unzip, but needs must. And ultimately, he doesn’t mind one iota. Two seconds later, he presses their latest notebook against Jensen’s chest, looking at him with the unmistakable expression, “Write. Now.” 

Typically neat and even on the pages, Jensen’s handwriting resembles Jared’s in Jared’s most anxiety-ridden moments. He writes, stares at his lines, writes some more, and hands it back. 

“What do I sound like?” 

Just below it, added, reads, “Is it weird?” 

For once in his life, Jared doesn’t overthink his course of action. He sets the notebook down and embraces Jensen in a tight, unyielding hug. Jensen hugs back just as hard, letting go of a breath he had been holding. With the speed of a Hobbit smoking a pipe of Longbottom Leaf, this hug transforms into fervent kissing. Polished armor of silver--otherwise known as their shirts--fall to the padded ground. They have room enough to move and bend and twist with each other. Jared slots himself into Jensen’s lap, as comfortable here as he is on the field in battle. 

Like sun over water, they stretch out over each other. 

And like the great river, Jared settles himself against Jensen, rising in waves. Chest to chest, Jared sits in Jensen’s lap. They grind together--flint against steel--utilizing friction and force. The rustle of their jeans tossed aside fans that preliminary spark. 

The tip of Jared’s cock rests against the head of Jensen’s. They each look down at this sight, utterly fixated, despite having done this before in a variety of settings. 

This is different. 

Radically different.

Because unlike all the times before, they don’t stop at grinding. The point is not to come yet, more lies ahead on the road. Jared takes a sharp inhale as Jensen wraps his hand around both their cocks. With his free hand, Jensen cups Jared’s chin and pulls him in. Their lips don’t quite meet, but their cocks push together, pressure increasing from the firm grip of Jensen’s hand and the impatient thrust of their hips. Warm and erratic, Jensen’s exhales teasingly land over Jared’s bottom lip. 

This is everything, all at once, in a heated, tingling rush. In one, swift, possessive, rough moment, Jensen takes Jared’s breath away. He fuses their lips together--perfectly desperate and hungry. Tongues gliding, sweeping, tasting, their cocks respond. 

The world places such an emphasis on hearing. Jensen doesn’t identify as hearing-impaired. 

Here together, Jared understands why. Jensen lacks nothing. 

He is not impaired. He is not less than, hindered, or damaged. Hearing-impaired implies that something is not as it should be and ought to be fixed. 

Inside this tent, only one thing requires fixing. Jared pushes Jensen down, flat on his back. With his hands on Jensen’s chest, Jared looks down, breathless. He answers the concern in Jensen’s eyes by reaching back behind himself. His fingers clasp around Jensen’s heavy, hot cock, and after a shudder, he brings the sensitive, leaking tip of it to his hole. 

Ready.

Brutal kisses burst against Jared’s lips. Bruises will be there tomorrow. The temperature inside their camp rises, sweat gathers in tantalizing stripes down the column of Jensen’s throat. Scents from the forest step aside. Jared breathes in Jensen and Jensen breathes in Jared. 

Close, about to get closer, Jared proves that he is nothing, if not, his mother’s son. He hands Jensen a condom, who, in turn, looks at it, blinks, and busts out laughing. Staring up at both of them, affixed to the condom wrapper, is a perfectly orange pumpkin sticker. Careful not to tear the sticker, Jensen rips the wrapper open. He kisses Jared, encouraging his stamina, driving him crazy with a few expert sweeps of his tongue and tempting nips to his bottom lip. Jared peeks down and moans at the sight of Jensen rolling the condom onto his cock. Jensen swallows that moan and slaps the head of his cock against Jared’s ass. 

“Fingers?” Jensen signs, his free hand groping Jared’s ass.  

“N-no.” Jared shakes his head. He signs the first portion of the sentence, “At home, I have a…” And he fingerspells the rest. “T-O-Y.” 

Tawny eyebrows arch in interest. 

Jared responds by stroking his own cock. He watches a long spurt of pre-come drip onto Jensen’s stomach. It leaves a trail that could be described as obscene. 

After that, they practically claw at each other, fingers digging into muscle and curves. None of the events occurring inside their tent resemble any of the erotica paperbacks Jared read as a child. He swiped them from his mother’s nightstand in an effort to find new reading material over summer break. And though he’s read plenty of smut, porn, erotica, etc. since then, those paperbacks were his very first impression of sex. Waves don’t crash against the shore. Jared’s sex doesn’t throb uncontrollably with passion. And Jensen’s man-organ doesn’t split Jared like a roast. 

Anxiety shows up in Jensen’s hands and in the concerned look in his eyes. His usually confident and swift hands rest lightly over Jared’s thighs, then flutter over to the small of Jared’s back. Jensen isn’t the virgin here, either, which Jared finds amusing and endearing. All of a sudden, to Jensen, Jared has become like glass--capable of breaking if handled too rough. 

While Jared knows he is by no means an experienced person of the world, he is definitely not afraid to unravel on Jensen’s big, thick rod. 

Jared leans down, fists a handful of Jensen’s hair, and kisses him like he means it. 

Oxygen slips away from them in this way--within their tent, situated in a clearing. Privacy. Comfort. Trust lays out between them like the bright patches of sunlight set across branches and tall grass. And in this position, the King bends to his guard, releasing control. This is their river to cross; Jared leads.

The difference between Jared’s toy at home and Jensen’s cock surprises him. 

Jensen is all at once softer and harder than the toy. The first push in feels exquisite. Jared tries to focus on breathing, but all he can think about is the smouldering, thrilling sensation radiating from his hips. His thighs tremble. Breathe. Relax. Steady, keep under the command of common sense. Jared sinks down, inch by inch, moaning without realizing. A twinge of pain shoots through his hips, though it only lasts a second. He stretches out, over the thickest part of Jensen, and shudders from the groan that escapes a pair of plush, pink lips. 

Caught up in the rush, Jared tilts his hips forward and searches for an angle-- _ the _ angle. 

Comforting hands slip over his ass, groping, feeling how they are fused together. Those same hands help find the right angle, so that he is fully seated. Jared rests his hands on Jensen’s thighs and leans back. Guards do not take trust from their Kings without also giving something in return. On display, he allows for a long, gratifying look of himself: filled up, his face flushed, mouth open in half a moan, and hair disheveled. 

Visible. 

Listened to beyond hearing. 

Finding a rhythm takes time. One second Jensen doesn’t move fast enough, and the other, Jared moves too fast. The lube on the condom, plus some Jensen added at the last second, helps to keep things moving, but Jared can’t get used to the squelch of it. He needs it, however, because after only a few minutes, he can tell that Jensen is thicker than his toy. 

He jots a mental note to tell Jensen later that at some point, he felt like his ass was slipping and sliding everywhere like some kind of incredibly odd waterpark ride. 

Soon enough, the squelch sound gets replaced with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Jared can feel his ass bounce against Jensen’s balls and thighs, in between being cupped and squeezed by Jensen’s hands. Riding Jensen allows for all kinds of glorious views--slopes of freckles and muscles. 

Fueled by this landscape of fire and flesh, Jared picks up their rhythm. He works his hips with more precision and balance than the start. It feels so good to lift his hips up--until the sensitive tip of Jensen’s cock almost, just almost slips out--and slam them down. Doing that fills him up, punches a breath out of him, and whenever Jensen helps by thrusting up, causes Jared to cry out. 

“There,” Jared shouts, his mouth in a perpetual O-shape. “Oh fuck, oh fuck--ahh!” 

Half a minute later, their position alters slightly. Jensen sits up. Jared wraps his legs around him. They rock back and forth, with Jensen pounding into Jared at an angle so good, Jared abandons any hesitancy in moaning, screaming, or grinding. 

Nose to nose for a moment, Jensen cups Jared’s jaw. He thumbs Jared’s cheek and slides his hand down to rest on Jared’s throat. His fingertips maintain light pressure--enough to feel every vibration of Jared’s long, desperate moans and pleading, needy demands. 

Noise tumbles out of Jared’s mouth. His cock bobs and slaps against Jensen’s stomach and chest. He wants to pay attention to it, but doesn’t want to relinquish his hold on Jensen’s shoulder blades. Their lips meet, having been lost from each other for some time, and Jensen groans upon contact. They fight then, to keep up this pace, but also to exchange kisses that could nearly draw blood. No mortal or immortal could extinguish what exists here. 

Shoulders of mountains. Heart beats rising like the moon. A tent like the Citadel of Stars.

Jared unravels--free of doubt or danger. With Jensen buried deep, pushing, pressing against that bundle of nerves, Jared shouts out a warning. His chest rises--sudden and sharp--and the muscles in his ass clench down over the thick base of Jensen’s cock. 

“Yes,” Jared pants, his lips over Jensen’s. “Yes, yes, yes…! I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, gonna… Jensen!” 

It’s wind and release at all once. Jared bears down over Jensen’s cock, coming hard. Spurts of come mark the King’s torso and chest; the edge of one hits Jensen’s chin and drips down in a sticky river. Jensen strokes Jared, milking him, drawing out every drop of come. And the second Jensen starts to come, Jared knows he is right between heaven and hell. He watches Jensen’s expressions, knowing that their origin flows back to a single source. 

These Younger Days passing, Jared slumps against Jensen, utterly spent and exhausted--though not so tired that he cannot accept a kiss. 

“Rest,” Jensen’s hands say, lightly brushing Jared’s hair away from his forehead. “Rest and be still.” 

Jared listens, his vigilance turned to dreams of unending travels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! FINALLY. i wrote and rewrote this chapter so many times. i really tried to evoke as much Tolkien into this as I could and still make it really steamy. i think this is also my *first* first time scene! 
> 
> comments are love, all are greatly appreciated. i put so much into these updates. <3


	28. Chapter 28

Surprisingly, Jared wakes up first. 

For a long while he lies beside Jensen, unwilling to move. Jensen’s breath falls against Jared’s shoulder in steady, relaxed puffs. From the few glances upwards at the tent, Jared gauges that it must be sunset. 

He nestles against Jensen in what seems to be their typical resting position: on their sides, chest to chest, limbs entwined. 

They don't typically sleep so early. 

Jared figures they can wake up for midnight activities. He closes his eyes and returns to a land not so dissimilar from this one. 

 

“Jensen. Stay still.”

“I’m sitting where you told me. :P” 

“Well you need to stop fidgeting.”

“Excuse me for showing some excitement.”

“Sigh.”

“You’re so cute when you’re grouchy.”

“I’m not grouchy.”

“Yeah, you are, and it’s cute. You know… I don’t  _ have _ to wake you up at two in the morning to have sex.” 

“...maybe I’m a little tired.”

“And cute.”

“Tired. -_-” 

“+ cute.” 

“+ my ass hurts.”

“+ I know something that will make it better.”

“I wonder what that is??”

“Nuh uh, you said you had something to show  _ me _ .” 

“Can we have sex right after?”

“:P I thought you said your ass hurt.”

“My ass and I are resilient.”

“+ cute.”

“You’re in an awfully good mood for nine in the morning.”

“I had coffee, my boyfriend and I had mind blowing sex last night and this morning, I woke up to his adorable, drooling little face, and we’ve got a whole campsite to do nothing but terrible, debauched things in. I’m in a pretty good mood. :D :D :D” 

“Your boyfriend sounds like an amazing person.”

“He is + cute.” 

“I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be. Come here.” 

Jensen pulls Jared in by the sleeve of his hoodie for a quick smack on the lips. It’s actually not Jared’s hoodie, it’s Jensen’s. Jared crawled into it this morning before he climbed out of their tent. They took down the tent before breakfast to air it out and clean up. While Jensen’s tent is high quality, not even the little vents sewn into it could properly get rid of the smell of whatever it is two teenage boys do out in the woods alone. 

After breakfast, Jared led Jensen over to a pair of tree trunks. 

The park service will cut down a select number of trees to encourage growth throughout the forest. Clearing some space this way allows for more light to get through. Thinning forests can make the environment healthier, if done properly, so there aren’t too many trunks. Jensen wrote these notes down in their notebook. He also detailed how he uses tic-tac containers to hold spices, how Starbursts can be roasted over the fire, and why he packed tea tree oil in a spray bottle. 

All by himself, Jensen has mastered survival here. 

And he doesn’t mind showing Jared how to do the same. Not one bit. 

“You’re nervous,” Jensen signs. His brows furrow to ask, “Why?” 

Their stay has been like learning how to breathe. 

“You teach me a lot,” Jared signs back, sitting across from Jensen. “Thank you.” He takes Jensen’s hands into his and gently squeezes. This isn’t a rooftop or a Parisian nightclub or an opulent palace. But the sun spreads out, comfortable and welcomed against the pale, thriving grass. Their campsite lies some feet away, with so many comforts of home, and so many comforts of the woods. 

Jared raises his right hand and places it flat on his chest. “My.” Next, with both hands, he completes a motion that starts near his chest and extends outwards. “Gift. My. Song.” 

He debated on playing the actual song to have as a reference, but he takes Ada and Adelaide’s advice and flies solo. Structure. Grammar. Fingers correctly positioned. Appropriate expressions. The best, most seamless effort he can manage. He relaxes his shoulders. Communication is based in more than speech. Jared focuses on every signs’ execution and delivery. 

“This one’s for you. You can tell everybody that this is your song.” 

His signs are far from perfect. 

But he knows every word--in English and ASL. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I hope you don’t mind. That I put down in words.” Jared reminds himself to breathe, but it doesn’t quite work. Not yet. He hasn’t hit that stride quite yet. His hands hesitate every now and then. But he’s doing it--mistakes and all. “Excuse me forgetting, but these things I do. You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” 

Holding a note in ASL is easy. Placing emphasis on a sign is easy. Remembering the specific order of signs within a sentence isn’t. He stumbles, he’s sure of it. 

“...what I really mean… yours… are the… sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

Out of anxiety, something stronger emerges, like a light from the dark trees in the West. A deep draught of air soothes him, releasing the tightness on his chest. The epic climax plays in his head--the surge of grandiose Italian, the orchestra building and building in intensity, heralding the most profound expression of love and adoration all at once. 

“You can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind. I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.” The music fades and allows each word to take center stage. Emphasis occurs in his body language, his expression, and body language. Soft, slow, and moving, Jared signs with control. “Hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind… how wonderful life is...” 

He looks up at Jensen. The music rushes back. 

“...now you’re in the world.” 

The sun has been kind. 

And this is their song. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. well. 
> 
> this is it, folks. that's a wrap for this fic. it's always so strange ending one. this has been a WIP for two years and i'm very grateful to the prompt at the kink meme that inspired it. and grateful to you, the readers, and to my betas who have stuck around. <3
> 
> there will be more of these two in the future, not sure when, but i just love these two. 
> 
> please leave me comments. it's always hard for me to end a fic. i've tried my best to do justice to ASL and the Deaf community. thank you, y'all!


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